Lions' Den
by InsaneMagician
Summary: AU. Rachel knew it was wrong, that she could cost the boy his chance but, she couldn't help it. In the process, her actions didn't cost the child his chance but granted her hers, and if she could be adopted by two gay men while she was in middle school, then, why would she question it?
1. Pilot

_Disclaimer_: I own nothing, just the idea behind the story.

MI's Note: so, unlike most of my stories, this one isn't completely planned, so if there's something you want to see, point it out. In this particular story, there is a reason for Quinn to take Rachel's offered friendship, after she gave Jacob a pair of her panties. That much is clear.

* * *

**Lions' Den**

Pilot

"Leon?" A young girl of fourteen years of age asked in the nursery of the foster house, looking for a baby boy. Not seeing her target, she frowned; the six-months-old boy was usually waiting for her with a huge smile. She turned to the matron, the only one who was kind to her. "Janice, where's Leon?"

Janice, an elderly and still warm woman, for being in the system for such a long time, turned, and her smile dwindled when she noticed who was the one asking. "Oh Rachel."

She knew it was wrong, that she could cost the boy his chance but, she couldn't help it. She ran to the foyer, not caring that she sounded like a herd of elephants stomping to get away from a mouse. She would often try to at least be presentable, since her social skills were as good as they could be, for a child who had lived in foster care since birth. It boiled down to the fact that she wasn't book smart, mainly because books were a luxury, and she was banned from movie nights. The stories were so interesting that she would get absorbed in them, and not notice when she would shout in indignation or cry out in pain; she had no social skills and no one to teach her.

The only one Rachel had, was Leon, and before him, the boy's mother. Caroline had entered the system after her parents had passed away; she had been twelve when she had to enter the system, while Rachel had been there for ten years already. Caroline was Jewish, and convinced that so was the tanned girl in foster care; she often joked that the nose was a dead give away, and treated the younger girl as a sister. She was, Caroline was, vegan, influencing Rachel deeply, explaining why she didn't like meat. It became a problem, specially being in the system, but despite having the other girl, Rachel's skills didn't improve.

She would listen, since it was the first time another kid in the system had stood up for her, and would only stop the girl to request a definition of a word. She began learning, but she had no idea how to charm, even when her 'mentor' often told her she was charming. And all those lessons went out the window as she tried to get to the boy, the only reminder of her dear Caroline, and her only comfort. Rachel would often run from the foster homes and back to the orphanage just to get back into the system and be with Leon. She did that every month, until the last two she was allowed to stay with the boy. Only that now, he was being adopted.

"Leon!" She cried in relief, seeing the boy, not noticing that there were two men along with the woman who ran the house and another who worked the system.

"Rachel!" Mariel cried in outrage, and two of the older kids stopped her from going through; she had wanted to prevent the outburst, else the family might decide not adopting and it was the boy's best chance. "What do you think you're doing?!"

The hiss was still heard loudly, but it made the girl freeze. That allowed her to breath a silent sigh of relief; the boy still held a chance. The other woman fidgeted about, not sure what to do.

"Would you like to sign the papers —?"

"You said he didn't have a name," one of the men, the one holding the boy tenderly, said, noting the boy looked around with certain intensity.

"Oh, he doesn't —"

"Yes he does!" The girl began, trying to free herself, seeing how indignant she felt. "Caroline said —"

"Caroline's dead." The finality of the statement finally bleed the fight out of the girl.

It would have been alright, if Leon hadn't noticed the girl. "Ra!" He exclaimed in delight, almost getting the man to drop him; it also spurred the girl forward, letting her jacket be taken by the two bullies as she rushed to the boy.

"He speaks!" The other man squealed, but before he could catch Leon, the boy flung himself at the girl, who caught him with ease; he did it often. "Oh."

"Rachel!" Mariel hissed again, but the girl, already crying, only sank to her knees.

"Hey, baby boy," she cooed at the boy in her arms.

"Ra!" Leon made a jerked motion to the two men. "'ome."

She chuckled, along with the men.

"Yes Lee, a new home, for you baby boy," she told him, smile in place as he frowned adorably and dried her cheeks with his soft, and slightly thin hands.

"Come?" He asked and she broke down.

"I'm sorry baby," she held him tight to her chest, her entire frame shaking, "I'm not coming. No, hush baby, don't."

"Imah." But he had already sobbed, and thus, began wailing.

"Oh, for crying out loud!" Mariel huffed. "Sing him that dratted song already."

"She's the only one who can calm him —"

"Ingrid!" It appeared as if Mariel only knew how to hiss.

"But he rarely cries." Ingrid, the system worker, added hesitantly.

"_You are not alone  
__I am here with you  
__Though you're far away  
__I am here to stay_"

Rachel sang softly, and as she began, the boy immediately quieted down. And her voice? It was god send, both men were struck by its quality and the simplicity of it. It was obvious that the girl, was gifted.

"_You are not alone  
__I am here with you  
__Though we're far apart  
__You're always in my heart_"

The whimpers had subsided, and those chocolate eyes, they seemed to die and turn a muted color of earth, the barren, desolate type in which its obvious nothing would grow. She stood up, silently, and passed the soothed boy back to the man who had been holding him. The shift made him whimper, but the comforting warmth helped sooth him, and the heart beat, which still held the song's rhythm, lulled him further.

"He likes the original version as well," she whispered hoarsely. "Be good to him."

"How did you learn it?" The other, slightly taller man, asked, stopping her.

"Caroline." They knew that was the boy's mother, pregnant at sixteen, had some complications and the boy had survived, barely. It was the reason for his adoption to have taken six months and not less. "When I met her, four years ago, she taught me many things. She taught me that song; sang it to me when I went to her bed at midnight, and I began to sing it to him when he was born."

A stray tear fell from her eye, but she just turned and walked away, deaf to the world and mute to it too, not a sob escaping her. She wanted so badly to wail like Leon had, cry out, because the only thing she had of her best friend, was now being taken away from her. Rachel understood that it was best for him, but she still felt the selfish need to be with him. The only thing she had left of Caroline, as pale as his mother, with a lush mop of brown hair like Rachel's (his mother had been a raven-haired maiden) but rather straight, not curly like the brunette's. She would often sneak into the nursery to get some quality time with him at night, it was one of the reason for them being so close.

She lost track of time. The only certainty she had, was that she was being sent to another foster house. Ohio wasn't a particularly big state, but it had a localized foster care system spread through out it. She would be moved from town to town, but now that Leon wasn't there, she didn't care. Taking the two duffel bags that remained of her best friend, the clothes she had packed for Caroline's hospital stay, never to be unpacked again, were inside the trunk at the foot of her bed.

It was funny, how those worked. There were some without lock, and were so because the kid who slept in the bed had lost his key twice, and so other kids could take his stuff. It was sad, since the only clothes that remained, were tarnished or soiled. Those were usually fancy clothes a parent had purchased, and that meant that, if someone else tried to wear it, they were in trouble.

Rachel had only lost her key once, and ever since, she kept it close. She packed her own clothes into one duffle, seeing as she didn't own much anyway. The only thing she kept close, was a USB flash memory that held all the pictures Caroline had taken with her phone, passed to a PC at her school, and given the younger girl in the drive. With those few possessions packed, she closed the footlocker, locked the lock, placed her key inside her pocket, and tumbled into the bed. Finally, a sound escaped her, but it didn't break the dam, it was only followed by more sobs. Janice would have checked on her, if the babies weren't demanding her attention.

Or so the Jew had thought.

"Rachel, honey," she had fallen asleep, much to her surprise, and turned to find a smiling Janice.

"Jay . . ." she called back, just to inform she was awake.

"Rachie, come along," the woman cooed, "grab your things."

"Isn't it late to go to a foster home?" She asked as she yawned, getting her dried tears off her eyes.

"Yes." The girl slumped back into the bed with a groan. "You still have to get up."

"Mariel wouldn't allow me dinner," she grumbled into her pillow, making the older woman chuckle.

"Rae," that caught her attention. "Just get your things."

Rachel sighed. Closing her eyes briefly, she visualized the hazel-green eyes of Caroline, and those very same colors in the orbs of a baby boy. Regaining strength, and also tears, she finally stood. Groaning internally, seeing how the rest had already been tucked into bed, she went to her footlocker and took her duffle bags. But, instead of being handed the lock and key for her next stay, Janice just held on to them. Frowning a bit, Rachel followed, not sure of what would happen. The brunette then heard whispers and giggles.

"— getting locked away," someone whispered, "just clothes and that —"

She hissed quietly, but just managed to make them laugh more.

"Children." They all quiet down. Janice was well known for being kind, but also dangerous when crossed.

"Thanks Jay," she said, once they had shut the door. They could hear the rumors going off and the girl rolled her eyes with a scoff. "Why can't we get along like siblings? Why must we endure each other's worse?"

"Because not all of them have been in the system as long as you," the woman replied, and the girl sighed sadly; had she been an ugly baby? Was she broken or simply damaged? Was she spoiled goods or just so alien no one wanted her?

At the foyer, she saw one of the men from the afternoon, the taller one. He gave her a smile and opened the door. She immediately took hold of the woman's arm.

"Rachel, it's okay." Janice said warmly, motioning for the girl to follow the man into the front yard. "Be good Rachie."

The door closed behind her before she could even ask Janice something. Anything. She wanted to run back inside.

"Rachel, could we talk?"

"I would love to babysit," she stated without preambles, back pressed to the door. "But I doubt Mariel would like that and Ingrid wouldn't allow it."

"We want to adopt you." The simple statement from the man made her slip, as she had been about to turn around. He chuckled as he prevented a nasty bump on her rump. "Yes, you heard me right and no, this isn't a dream."

It was then that she realized she had spoken out loud. She stared at the man, dumbfounded.

"See, my husband and I, we want a baby," that explained Leon, so what the hell did they want with her? Her heart pounded, scared; it was almost what had happened to Caroline, before she ended up pregnant. "Yet we also recognize talent, and we want you to come with us."

"Why?" How could she trust them? Sure, the man before her had kept her from falling, helped her stand too, but that didn't have to mean something, did it? He just smiled, simply smiled, and her racing heart calmed a bit.

"Because, it's clear that Leon sees you like a mother," that was surprising. No one knew, mainly because no one knew what '_imah_' meant, "and because you have an amazing voice."

She closed her mouth with a snap, took notice of the offered hand, and after a bit of hesitation, took it. She was just fourteen, without book _or_ street smarts, even if she had been often forced into learning self defense from the older kids. Not that she would brag about it, in her effort to try and stay in one house in a permanent fashion (mainly because she had a question for everything that they wanted her out) she had a different set of skills from normal, from those homes who would take kids beyond the fact that they needed the easy cash, and the man actually held a menial job.

"I am Hiram," the man said as soon as she took his hand, and he began guiding her to the car, the _empty_ car. "LeRoy and Leon are waiting for us. We left with him as soon as the papers were finalized, and even though yours are in process, we managed to get them to give you to us as a foster home while we make it official."

"The papers . . . ." But perhaps they didn't want her permanently, maybe it was until Leon had grown a bit and then they wouldn't want her anymore.

Hiram opened the door for her and she climbed in, throat dry.

"We talked to Ingrid as soon as you left."

"Bet Mariel was thrilled," she muttered, and at his inquisitive glance through the rear view mirror, she blushed. "She often tells me I'm too intense for my own good."

"She wasn't," he answered candidly as he drove them away from the orphanage, the only place she had had constant in her life, "she began fuming about having to keep your bunker open for when we decide we didn't want you anymore."

"Oh . . . ." She shied away from the brown eyes, pain laced in the single syllable.

"Yeah . . . I'm sure you can picture how mad she got when LeRoy stated you were to stay," her eyes snapped to his, wide with surprise and Hiram laughed. "Yes, she wasn't thrilled for the contradiction, but that husband of mine didn't give her a chance to say anything as he stormed off, in the perfect diva-fashion.

"We have _so_ much to teach you," he began gushing, surprising her, "besides studies I mean; we _are_ going to see how much you know and if we can level your education but musicals — oh, you'll love musicals. Do you know about musicals?"

"I . . . know about music," she said, hesitantly, "not much, but a little. I like pop, a little punk, and rock, as long as it isn't hardcore."

"How about Mozart or Beethoven?" He asked jovially.

"Uh, they're classics, right?" At the nod and bright smile, she began to relax. "I've heard of them, but not their music."

"With your distinguished ears, I'm sure you'll love them," and with that, she felt better. He thought she had a good hearing, that felt good. They suddenly stopped at a hotel, and she tensed again. "Come, we leave tomorrow early."

"Where?" She was wary, but still followed him, not giving up her hold on her duffles.

"Lima," he replied with a smile, guiding her to the elevator; once the doors closed, did he resume speaking, "we live there, my husband and I, but the foster system doesn't extend to housing there, since it's so small."

"Mmm," she murmured, not knowing what to make of the statement.

"Yeah, it's about an hour and half away," he said as the elevator dinged and the doors slide open; he guided her to one of the room doors, "we're ready for Leon, but we have a room you could use; you can help chose the furniture —"

"But, I get the final say," LeRoy, the man already inside, stated, turning from the TV; a grumpy, un-sleeping Leon on his lap. "Hey baby boy, look who is here."

He turned the boy to face Rachel, and both squealed. The girl ran to the baby, who began gushing and making bubbles from his mouth.

"Imah," he stated with a sigh, before finally relaxing his grumpy face and smiling like mad. He then turned to the two men. "Sta'?"

"Okay kiddo, it's way past your bedtime," LeRoy said, "you could stay up until Rachie arrived, now it's bed time."

"Ra?" He asked frantically, taking hold of her shirt and whimpering. "'ome?"

"They chose so baby boy," she hushed, rubbing his back as she kept her tears at bay, "I'm coming home with you."

Looking at her eyes and giving a final nod of his head, as though he approved; and he would clearly voice his displeasure should he find her gone, he then gave her a sloppy kiss on her cheek. Chuckling, she wiped the stray tear that fell before he noticed and began getting scared, then turned his face so she could blow a raspberry into his cheek, making him giggle like mad. She then did give him his goodnight kiss.

LeRoy took the boy and went to one of the rooms, were she could see a blanket already laid down and the boy being placed upon it. Soon, he was cornered by four, big, plush pillows, another blanket draped over him, the lights were turned off and the door half closed. The man was suddenly outside, with a baby monitor in hand, and Rachel finally sighed. It was then she realized the other man was besides her, taking her into a hug as she cried. Her tears were there as her finally form of release. Everything was happening so fast — _too_ fast, but she still had Leon, and that made everything alright.

"Here." LeRoy gave her a glass of water, and she thankfully drank it, feeling better. "Are you hungry?"

She opened her mouth but her belly growled. She blushed and the men laughed. One went to look for something by the fridge while the other took the phone. Soon, both were back besides her, and she was given something that looked like a menu.

"Go on," LeRoy encouraged, "pick something, anything."

"Anything?" It was a baffling concept.

"Okay, just three things," Hiram began, obviously seeing trouble ahead, "and nothing sweet. Anything salty is game, but no sweets."

"Okay," she replied softly, looking the menu over and her eyes widen at the options. "Can I get a vegan pizza, vegan burger and vegan hot dog?"

Her request was done with big eyes, and both men looked at one another, terrified. That stare could become an unquestionable puppy-eyed pout that made them certain once she learned about it and it's power, she would be able to get away with almost anything.

"Vegan?" They opted to ask, seeing as they were puzzled by the unusual request and she blushed a bit.

"Caroline spoke of it, she was one herself, probably the reason why Leon got sick with milk until they got soy, but by then he had a bug and had to eat pineapple, then he got a bit better." She shrugged a bit, then blushed again, stronger this time around. "Never mind, I was supposed to not eat because I could have cost Leon his way into a good home."

"No, we approve of your choice," Hiram stated as he began calling, "you're drinking apple juice though."

"Yay!" She cheered, and at their gaze, she blushed again. "Soda tastes funny."

While Hiram requested the food, LeRoy sat down besides her with a light chuckle. "Well, at least he's going to get someone to share his kosher."

"How about _Funny Girl_ while we wait?" Hiram placed the movie.

Before she could object, it began, and she was immediately drawn by the voice. She didn't notice when the food arrive, or when she ate it, all she knew was that she had found something to love. Rachel learned who Barbra Streisand was, but they refused to let her watch it for a second time. By the time she realized it was over, and that she had eaten the burger, hot dog, and pizza, all the flavors, plus the apple juice, flooded from her taste buds, and she sighed happily.

"I'm only eating vegan," she stated.

"You barely tasted it!" They cried in response, but she just shrugged. Then frowned. "What is it, baby girl?"

The term froze her, but she decided it was probably a slip, so with a shrug, she answered, "I forgot my toothbrush."

"You have no toiletries?"

"No one has, but a toothbrush _is_ individual." They gasped. She yawned.

"Don't worry, " LeRoy stated as Hiram grabbed the phone again. "As soon as they bring it, you'll brush your teeth and go to bed."

"Yes sir," she saluted, then pouted. "We can't watch it as we wait?"

"No." Both stated, and she shrugged, yawning again.

She stood then, and began humming _Don't Rain On My Parade_, singing it softly to herself, and they were awed by her ability. Sure, the rhythm could be fresh, but getting the lyrics memorized from one go, and singing them perfectly to tune . . . it was amazing. They snapped from their reverie as the door was knocked on, and they got a brand new toothbrush for the girl. Not noticing that she had done something extraordinary, she went to brush her teeth.

"So, where am I sleeping?" She inquired with yet another yawn.

"You can sleep with Leon." Hiram stated, as LeRoy was still at a loss for words.

Her smile brightened, and they could see a star in the making. The girl skipped to the room, entered, and left the door half opened. Taking the monitor with them to their own room, they heard some movement; she then popped her head just as Hiram was turning off the general lights.

"Oh. Do you want to leave one on?" She shrugged, then shook her head. "It's okay if you do."

"Then, please don't turn them all off," she requested softly, and he smiled at her in reassurance. "Also, I don't want to move Leon too much, so —"

"You can take a blanket," he replied as he took one out from one of the closets in the room, then followed her to the spare one; it was then that he noticed she was wearing an animal sweater and some shorts that were barely noticeable.

Not thinking much of it, he placed the blanket over one of the chairs and then passed her the baby, who whimpered a bit. Hiram then proceeded to take the covers and such from the bed, leaving the fresh linen exposed. Afterwards, he took the baby's blanket, placed it in the middle, took Leon from the girl, placed him down, then placed three pillows to surround him.

"If you want the other side, just switch the pillow accordingly," he stated.

"Oh, so he doesn't fall!" She nodded eagerly, then took her own blanket and placed it over the baby, then slid besides him, on the side that was free. "I've never been able to sleep with him."

"We can make it permanent," he replied with a smile, then proceeded to kiss the baby on his temple, then the girl's forehead.

"Hey! I also want to kiss our kids good night," LeRoy said from the door, teasing the other man. He kissed the baby on his forehead, then the girl's temple. "Good night Leon, good night Rachel."

"Rachel?" Hiram asked, seeing that the girl hadn't move.

"I've, never been kissed goodnight," she whispered, holding the side of her head where the last kiss still lingered. "Are you real?"

"Yes," they stated with a smile, chuckling a bit at the girl's antics.

"Don't think too much about it, baby girl," Hiram said softly, rubbing her back, "just go to sleep."

"Um," she slipped out of bed and moved over to LeRoy, gave him a kiss on the cheek, then did the same for Hiram. "Caroline said it was normal, right?"

"Right," they stammered.

"Okay," she said, relief evident, "good night LeRoy, Hiram."

She went to bed, yawned, and laid down besides Leon, using one of the pillows as she curled into the boy, then covered both, herself and the boy in the process; they noticed how she carefully allowed space for the boy's head to be seen. Turning off the light, they left, and as soon as they half closed the door of their own room, they heard a whimper from the monitor.

"_Shh, Leon, it's okay_."

"_Ra. . . ._"

"_Yes baby boy, I'm here._"

"'_ong?_"

They heard a chuckle. Then, they heard the girl's melodious voice singing. They smiled at each other as they got into bed. Well, LeRoy got in it, Hiram still had to get dressed. As soon as they heard her sing, they both sighed. The taller man, getting ready quickly, climbed into bed to enjoy the song near his husband. The Jew was happy to get a Jewish girl, though he was sure that while he took them to the synagogue on Saturdays, they would spend Sundays at church. It was fair, he supposed, and besides, Christmas was always fun.

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So. Let me know what you think, and what you would like to see next. No, she isn't going to join Glee club, and because of Leon and a stipulation on their friendship, Quinn actually accepts the offer right after the JBI incident.


	2. Prologue

_Disclaimer_: I own nothing, just the idea behind the story.

MI's Note: wow, such a response! Plenty of follows, so I hope not to disappoint. Here, we got tentative meetings, more than I had even expected, xD

Don't forget to review though; I only know I want Quinn and Rachel in a tentative friendship at the start, this will sort of follow the basic premise of glee until one of you (or me) find some tangent to go with, so let me know.

The result of so many follows and two reviews was a day to update, I wonder if all of the followers left a review each, how much faster this would go. Just a thought.

* * *

**Lions' Den**

Prologue

The first night had been relatively easy. Both kids slept peacefully and the trip of the next day was much easier than the one to the hotel. Leon had been fidgety and mopey, clearly upset. Now, with Rachel along, he was the bubbly child they had met at the house, pointing and babbling nonsense with glee. She coddled him and cooed, treating him like a doting older sister, sometimes like the mother he claimed her to be. They laughed and even sang with them, playing games with the girl that she had never heard before. Games often played during trips, the first time Rachel had ever played, ever been on a trip really, not counting the bus ones to different homes in which she was picked on.

"Beautiful voice," LeRoy said, wiping a tear from his eye as his husband nodded, "really Rachie, you have a gift."

"Um, thanks," she replied, looking embarrassed. Leon began gushing at her, making loud noises. "Lee, no, please."

"She is amazing, isn't she baby boy?" Hiram cooed, making the boy mimic him.

"Rae!" He stated with a clap.

"Awww look, she's blushing," LeRoy gushed happily, shoving the driver a bit but just in jest. "And she's turning even redder, how cute!"

Hiram laughed, and the games continued. Once they had arrived to the Berry house, the girl opted for a simple mattress in the boy's nursery, just so she could sleep next to his crib and they could be together. They watched some cartoons while the papers were finalized and they could enroll her in a school. As the kid show progressed, they began to worry about the girl. They also decided to talk with her.

"Rachel, honey, how would you like to be named Rachel Barbra Berry?" LeRoy asked softly, worried that they would be stepping over some boundary, and her stunned look made them hesitate. "It's okay if you —"

"Yes."

"Excuse us?"

"Ah, sorry!" She looked embarrassed enough. "I mean, um, I would like that, love it actually, very, _very_ much."

They sighed in relief, but it was time for the harder question, and Hiram cleared his throat in an effort to begin it.

"Baby girl," she stiffened at the term, then seemed to relax entirely, a warm smile on her face, "we've noticed you don't have much of a school record . . . ."

"Oh, well, sometimes the families needed help in other things," she replied with a shrug, "and others, I would rather stay and help, instead of going to school. An extra pair of hands never hurt so they let me stay."

"Give us an example, please," the other man looked distraught at the prospect of her not having had a proper education.

"Well, one time, the family had a bakery," she frowned a bit, "it was fun, learning how to make cookies, but after a while, it was obvious that they wanted the girls for more than just helping, and I got them banned from the system."

"Did you do that often?" The taller man inquired softly, and at the hesitant nod, he smiled. "I don't believe it could have been easy, but I'm sure you made plenty of lives easier doing so."

"Yeah . . . I guess," she clearly didn't sound at all relieved.

"Baby girl," this time it was LeRoy calling her that, "we're going to hire you a personal tutor, okay?"

"Okay . . . ." She looked back to the show as the boy squealed in delight. "I know I'm not smart, but will it be enough?"

"Baby girl," the Jew man began as the other simply smiled warmly, "you _are_ smart enough, we just want to look for someone who'll be capable of helping you excel while finding yourself. Find your dream."

"We'll also get you a vocal coach, see how well you can handle dancing, and move on towards other strengths you might have," the diva male stated, "I'll get you new clothes, we'll furnish your room, but I'm in charge of fashion my girl."

"He's an interior designer and fashion maestro," the other man teased, smiling, "I'm a fitness instructor."

"He's _very_ popular," it was the tall man's turn to be teased. "He also gets paid very nicely."

"Hey, I'm loved by rich women, it's a fact." They laughed.

"Makes sense," they turned, surprised, since it seemed as though the girl had been intent on the show, "you clearly know how to stay in shape and without interest in women, their husbands are inclined to trust you."

"Well, and how your brain works," Hiram went to sit besides her, jumping on the chance to tease her, "I must say, I'm looking forward to prying you open and see what else you can come up with."

"I agree, your intelligence will definitely help develop those smarts you talk about," LeRoy agreed, going to the girl's other side, while lifting the baby into his arms; Leon wasn't deterred from his tv, "you're special and unique Rachie, never forget that."

"Hey baby girl, there's no need to cry," they still had no idea how to tread with a child who came from the system, who was already that old.

"It's just, I can tell you mean it," she sniffed, "and it's the second time that has happened in my life."

"Well, what about the first time?"

"It was Caroline."

With that answer, she took the child, who had sensed her distressed and had whimpered. He cradled into her, fisting her shirt and burying into her. She silently shed tears, but only cried when she felt the two men embrace her. It felt like home; she was sad it had taken for her best friend to die for them to have their happy ending. Caroline was now watching over them both, taking care of them. There was no other way to explain how they ended with two caring parents, and she and Leon were both safe.

* * *

The first night in the new house, was unique. The two men woke to the sound of cries of distraught coming from the nursery. They ran.

It was a heart gripping sight. Rachel seemed to be fighting against the sheets, but instead of it being cute and adorable, it was ghastly. They were ripped, as were her newly purchased pajamas, and she had scratches on her arms, self inflicted of course. Her cries were soft, but it was clear she was sad and crying and having a nightmare. She couldn't escape and was clearly upsetting the boy.

This went on for other nights, with a few incidents in between, mostly when she went to bed after having water. It was then that they learned that the rather big sweaters were from Caroline, so they allowed her to wear them. Now the pajamas weren't ripped into shreds, and the only times they had to wake her, were when they found her crying softly. Leon still had to be fed at unholy hours of the morning, but before, it was because she had upset him. They found out it was normal. They did get her into therapy, and it was helping a great deal, for them to understand, and for her to overcome the irrational fear of having the boy taken from her. And her own self-worth and esteem.

"So please, take it easy on her," Hiram pled softly, looking at the blonde; she was there for the position as tutor, babysitter (in case they had to go out of town) and possible coach. "She's delicate when it comes to studies, doesn't answer well to disciplined measures so it has been hard to find her a tutor."

"I'll say; the last one mentioned that you've been at it for about two weeks with several degrees of failure and disappointment," she extended her hand, "I'm Holly Holiday, aiming for a teaching license; the board thinks my methods aren't practical."

"I just hope you have patience," he sighed, motioning for her to come in and guided her towards the living room, "LeRoy, Rachel, Leon, this is Holly. Holly, these are: my husband and two kids."

"Pleasure," they exchanged pleasantries, while the girl shifted uncomfortably on her spot, clearly not particularly giddy; there was reluctance and mistrust in her gaze, yet was still cordial and pleasant to the woman.

"Wow, I had been expecting to be condemned or exorcised," she teased, earning puzzlement and she chuckled, "I'm happy that you're willing."

"I've lived from chances," she explained hesitantly, looking at the two men before shifting about uncomfortably, "I've recently found out that it pays off."

"And I want to be your chance at greatness," the blonde sounded solemn, so the girl stood straighter, "so, we'll begin with basics and move from there."

* * *

"That was fun," she said as the man closed the door and accompanied her to her car, "I can tell she'll have some difficulty with most subjects, but she has quick wit."

"And I can tell she's excited with you as a prospect," Hiram replied warmly, with a matching smile; things were looking much better, "we want to send her to school, but it feels like it's better if she levels up to her peers instead of getting her dropped a few levels."

"Definitely a good idea," she replied, unlocking her car, "I'll be back tomorrow, Hiram; I've got to give her a standard test."

"You need to display your abilities," he nodded with a knowing smile, "we understand. We can also see you're not doing this just to get some credit for your teaching license, you also want her to become great."

"Once her grammar is top notch," she replied with a smile, before getting into her car and going off, "and her english honed to perfection, I'll teach her other languages as well. With her tongue and ears, she'll pick them up easily."

He simply nodded, watching her dumbfounded as she climbed back, intent on driving off. When he was back inside the house, he realized that she was right, and was pleased to find the girl reading the dictionary the blonde had left her.

"If you want help with pronunciation, just let us know," he told her, receiving an absentminded nod and shook his head, "so, Chinese takeout this time?"

"Yeah!" That got a reaction, and he smiled, pleased.

"Well, I think things are going well."

* * *

Saturday was synagogue day, afterwards, to be spent at the park. They thought it was a good idea to let the girl mingle and interact. They also knew, through one of their friends, that certain Jewish boy was interested.

"Noah Puckerman, you better not hurt that girl!" His mother stated, and the boy simply grimaced then sped off to find said girl.

"I don't think I've ever seen him tugging pig tails," LeRoy remarked.

"Oh, he has far too much charm," the woman replied with a sigh, "never went through that _cooties_ phase."

"I'm glad he actually sticks up to girls when other boys pick on them," the other man remarked, earning chuckles.

The kids though, weren't too kind on the girl. She was picked on for having two gay dads more than anything, and when she ignored them, it got physical.

"Henry, I don't recommend you hurting her."

"Stay out of this, Puckerman," the other boy sneered, "and it's _Hank_."

"Well, I'm not staying out," the other stated, narrowing his eyes and pushing the older boy away, "so you better not hurt her."

"Oh yeah, are you going to stop me?" The other continued sneering. "Boys, get him."

While the others prevented Noah from moving, the other boy began pushing the girl, until she fell because of a swing. They laughed, and then, once she was standing, he pushed her against the wooden structure. She hissed.

"Your faggot fathers won't help you," he stated with a mean laugh, "you aren't a boy, so they won't even _see_ you."

"Liar!" The statement got the grown ups attention, and the cry as the older boy pushed her further into the log startled several; they went towards them, concerned and worried.

"Hey, I haven't even touched you!" He defended himself, letting her go and looking a bit scared.

"Henry!"

"Mom!" He groaned.

"Rachel, baby girl, are you okay?" LeRoy asked, as his husband moved the girl a bit, stopping when she whimpered.

"You're bleeding!"

"I didn't do it!"

"We'll see about that young man!" The fashionista stated angrily, making the boy's mouth snap shut.

* * *

"Rachel, honey," Hiram was outside, talking to Dr. Lopez, "why didn't you tell us you were hurt?"

"Remember those families who were taken from the system?" At the nod, she swallowed, wincing a bit as the movement forced her back into it. "Well, some of them lost their kids to the system as well; they weren't happy."

There was nothing else to be said about it, other than —

"Noah!" They turned to the door where they saw the Mohawk-ed boy standing there, busted lip, brand new shiner on his left and bruised fists.

"They won't hurt you," the boy stated, looking embarrassed and yet, serious, "I managed to get several of the other boys before I beated him up badly."

"Noah?"

"Yeah?"

"Noah Puckerman!" The man in the room interrupted the exchange with awe in his voice, just as the doctor called for a nurse to bring him things to help fix the young man. "That boy is two years older!"

"I thought he was just one," the boy stated with a shrug of nonchalance, "he is only a grade higher."

"He can't be that smart," the girl stated, looking at him with awe, "I mean, if you took several of his friends out —"

"Three," the boy boasted, ignoring the aghast stares from the adults.

"— then yeah, you could have easily taken him."

With a beaming smile at her acknowledgement, he easily went with the doctor and nurses to get attended.

"Well, I must say you made your first friend," Hiram said as they watched Mrs. Puckerman and her youngest, Sara, fret over the boy, "and Leon now has an older brother to look up to."

"Hiram!" The outrage was evident, as was the giggle coming from the girl and soon, from the boy in the tall man's arms.

"What?" He turned quizzically to his husband, "he just stood up for our baby girl. Sure, he used violence, but that was still surprising."

Even more, was when they learned the boy had gone, on a stolen car (of course), over to the orphanage and beaten all the kids who spoke a word of ill intent towards whom he had named his Jew Babe, and that was the short version of the nickname. Ever since, he would be often found at the Berry household, learning along with Rachel from one Hot Babe, Holly Holiday. The woman took it in stride.

But those were the events of Saturday; Sunday itself brought a surprise. While church was where Hiram often found clients, he still didn't like to go there. The stink eye he received due to his own religion and the fact that he was married to another man, no matter how Christian LeRoy was, still made it all hard to stomach. If not harder.

So, while his husband took the kids to church, he took the chance to do his extended morning routine, shower, and by the time they were done with service, he would be fresh for lunch, and hungry for it.

While they weren't frowned upon, because they could act like the man was a single parent, they were still gazed upon. Specially by the most conservative man. Russell Fabray 'often openly objected' (how the hell that worked, Rachel was still trying to figure out, not only after attending for the third time, even after Holly took her time trying to explain it; she had been the one to say it in the first place as well) to LeRoy being there on his own, and he had made it clear what he thought of him being in charge of, not only a young girl at an impressionable age, but a baby _boy_ at that.

"Hey," service was over, so it was mingling time; Rachel turned, bewildered at being spoken to, and found an amicable blonde sitting besides her, "I noticed that you weren't leaning into the bench as you use to."

"I had no idea my posture was of interest," she countered, making the girl smirk a bit and craned a brow, "then again, considering the amount of interest you have on the lectures, I cannot say I'm surprised."

The older girl chuckled. "I'm Francine, people call me Frannie," she frowned at her own nickname, earning a soft giggle.

"I think I might stick to Fran," she grinned, earning a grin in response, "also, I don't think you dad might be to happy with you talking to me."

"And if he sent me to talk to you?" The blonde easily countered, stunning the girl briefly and smirking because of it. "Also, _he_ is the one who doesn't like Fran, says it sounds too manly."

"Considering your sister's second name is Quinn, I'd say they made it easy," that got her a tinkering laughter; it made her belly giddy.

"Ah, I'm glad he sent me over," she replied, wiping a tear from the corner of her soft hazel eyes, smiling genuinely for the first time since Rachel had seen her.

"Then let him know that no, they haven't hit me," she turned to look at her father, who was being fawned over because of young Leon in his arms, "I honestly don't think they'll ever will; I know the type and they certainly aren't."

"Is my dad that type?" The question was clearly intended for educative and curiosity purposes, nothing else.

"I'll have to go with no, unless he isn't completely in control," she gazed at the family through the corner of her eye, as they exchanged formal pleasantries, clearly the model picture of perfection, "and he doesn't strike me as the kind who likes losing control."

Frannie simply nodded at this, and they reminded quiet for a while. She then bumped into the younger girl's shoulder.

"Hey, you still haven't answered me; what happened?"

She sighed, mulling over what or how to answer. "I was often picked at, still am as a matter of fact, but back then was because no family wanted to stick with me. Another reason, was because I wouldn't keep quiet; if a family treated any of us, whether fostered or biological kids, _badly_, I would report them. This was certain to make me something akin to public enemy number one. Sometimes, those biological kids got placed in the system."

"They would hit you?" A younger blonde gasped, and while the older one glared at her sister, fearing the tanned girl would clamp up, it would seem like Rachel wasn't upset; her chocolate orbs had been up to speed to the pale girl's advances.

"They would hit me with anything," both blondes were surprised by the sheer and blunt honesty of the smaller female, "the bruises and cuts, even when I tended to them as best as I could, could still be opened."

"So that's why you move with so much care," Fran mused, and at the curios look, the younger sibling provided an answer.

"Our dad keeps watching you," she whispered hoarsely, "he is intent on proving your parents unfit."

Parents. Not fathers but parents. At that moment, Rachel didn't particularly care for the semantics of it, so she shrugged.

"Yesterday, a boy at the park pushed me against the wood structure of the playground," she sighed a bit, this time not looking at the blondes, "my wounds were opened."

"Your dad took you to the hospital?" At the nod, the girl's eyes brightened, making the older sibling huff a bit, but the soft smile proved she wasn't really mad, "did you meet Dr. Lopez? He's awesome, isn't he? He's my best friend's dad; he isn't around much though, but he often let us have fun and cook with her mom."

"Yeah, come along Lucy Q," the older girl bumped the tanned girl's shoulder softly, giving her a warm smile before standing and dusting off the skirt of her Sunday best, "dad beckons."

"Wait, one last question!" She requested softly, and when the other two nodded, she smiled a bit. "Why are you back to wearing those sweaters? They clearly aren't your Sunday best. . . ."

"Because it's my comfort best," she replied with a watery smile, then waved at the two girls. "Dad?"

"Everything alright, baby girl?" The man asked softly, giving her the boy then taking her offered hand.

"Yeah. . . ." She looked back at the blonde family, smiling softly to herself. "Lucy reminds me a bit of Caroline."

"How so?" The man turned to the boy, then smiled. "Ah, I bet it's the eyes."

"And the skin," she replied, tugging him on, "come along dad, daddy promised a new kosher restaurant."

LeRoy groaned in good nature, rolling his eyes for good measure, just to earn a tongue out in a childish manner. He laughed at this and the girl smiled, the action earning giggles from the boy, who later began squealing in laughter when the man began to tickle him. From the other side, two blonde girls watched with equal envy.

"What did she mean, comfort best?" Lucy asked her sister as they approached their parents, who were saying their goodbyes.

"Well, Quinnie," it was a private nickname, so the other was for common use, "it means that after getting checked, she wanted to wear something that made her feel better, comfortable, and at ease with the world."

And the talk had to stop. They had reach their father, and he wouldn't like it if they spoke out of turn or whispered among themselves; they were at an age that could get them branded as gossip vultures, and they would do best not to provoke rumors saying they were whispering among themselves about others. God and heavens above _forbid_ the Fabray family from being gossipmongers.

* * *

The Berry family soon forgot the Fabray, considering how they would go to a fancy restaurant vs. the family one the two men wanted to take their kids to. Rachel stated what she liked, while recommending a nice, kids plate for the boy (mostly to grow used to it and eat a bit of, the rest to play silently with) and the two waited for them to return. The order was made and now, they had to wait for the vibrating object to, well, _vibrate_. Meanwhile, they had fun watching Leon try to work his way out of a maze. They chuckled as the boy went right through walls.

"Well, it seems like your new name is Ralph," the girl teased.

"Rawr!" The boy exclaimed, putting on what was meant to be a fierce expression which melted to an adorable pout, extending his arms in a mighty pose.

"I knew he would be affected by the movie," LeRoy sighed while his husband laughed at the antics.

"And I knew you'd worry enough for us both," the man said with a smile, tweaking the boy's nose, "now, Leon, you can't break down the walls. Try getting out of the maze."

The boy jumped when the object did its rumble; he had placed a foot over it. Getting over his initial shock with just a shrug, seeing as his imah was right besides him, he began trying to get out of the maze, opting for demolishing the first time he hit a dead end. His kiddie chair was forgone as long as Rachel was besides him. Sure, he would sometimes throw the food and it would often miss his mouth, but when he shared with the girl, he tended to make less of a mess, specially if she was close.

When he noticed the men coming, he squealed in pure delight.

"Dad!" He exclaimed in joy, making LeRoy stop on his track.

Hiram smiled and proceeded to show himself before teasing his husband. "Daddy!" _That_ made him stop of course.

Due to their lack of movement, the boy whimpered, turning to the girl. "Imah . . ." he was ready to burst the water gates, and would have if the girl hadn't hushed him softly.

"You just shocked them, Lee," she whispered as she stood, passing the boy to both men; their fathers were both crying with identical beaming smiles, LeRoy holding the boy against his chest as Hiram embraced them both.

After a moment's hesitation, Rachel gingerly approached them, looking unsure. Noticing, the taller man opened his arm, soon followed by his husband, and the girl joined in the embrace. Earning some awwws (because, while they lived in Lima, they were known in the surrounding communities and cherished by many) the boy was still not at peace.

"Imah, 'ears," the boy said with his petulant pout, looking close to tears himself.

"Happy tears," she answered with a laugh as they broke the embrace, and the boy turned his now-chubby hands to wipe the tears off the man holding him. "See his smile? He's happy, he really is. Both of them."

This opened a subject that the taller man had been looking forward to breaching, and they were glad the girl no longer ate as though her life depended on it, as if at any moment, her food could be taken from her.

"Rachel, gold star," that perked her up, she hadn't heard the nickname before, "I was wondering, why does he call you 'Imah'?"

"Oh, I've been eager to learn," the other man stated, feeding the baby his own, pre-packed food, "what does it mean?"

"Caroline was Jewish," the girl began, and the men smiles turned a bit sad; it was hard to hear their girl talk about her best friend in such a manner, even harder to realize that said girl had to die for them to get such an amazing family, "she said I was one too, that my nose was a dead giveaway."

She rubbed said anatomy self consciously. "It was the first time I had learned of such an important fact of my life, my heritage, before we had a shadow of Leon in our lives.

"Once he appeared as signs, she was excited, because she knew it would mark a change for us, both of us and the child. She had it all planned out; two years in the system, then she would be of age, I would care for Lee for a short while, a year tops, before she would return moderately successful and take us out," she dried her eyes before the water could fall, clearly mourning their ingenuity, "I'm not sure how Leon picked it, but it was the word she said the most as he grew inside of her. _Imah_, an almost magical statement of the fact that she was having a child, and said child would be a rightful Jew because he had a Jewish mother.

"Old customs stated that the only certainty there was to a child being Jewish, was through the mother," she laughed a bit, noting the look of concern the boy kept giving her, tickling him so he would get that frown upside down; worked like a charm and he kept on enjoying his meal, "back then there were no paternity tests, so the boy couldn't be, with certainty, tied to a single man."

"She truly loved you both," Hiram stated with a smile.

"So you have no idea how he picked it?" LeRoy looked worried, specially when the girl just shrugged and began eating her meal, more properly that time around.

All the talk in order to forget the blonde worshippers and yet, the families were destined to meet again. There was one famous ice cream shop, and while Rachel loved the treat fervently, thanks to a night of sneaking off with Caroline, she was reluctant since she had no idea what went into the ice cream. The woman attending, another blonde with a huge smile, gazed at her adoringly as she dubiously checked the sweet and looked heartbroken. This was the Sunday spot, as several families came and went as Rachel still tried to make a choice: to eat or not to eat, the fabulouse treat called ice cream, _that_ was the question.

"You seem to be having a hard time making up your mind love," the woman remarked, watching her with a kind expression, "remind me of my youngest."

"I thought Brittany was the oldest," Hiram remarked with a light frown.

"Yes, and we began the business for her," the woman nodded, "but our baby is the one that fully understands the concept."

They were taken from the conversation at the sound of a gasp. The tanned girl went to where LeRoy and Leon were indulging on some serious damage control; there was no way the baby boy was going to let the delicious treat melt, and he would often lick cautiously, having seen plenty of cartoons where the scoop fell from the cone. And he wanted the cone.

"Dad," she had quickly gotten used to the way the boy addressed them even if she started it, and she knew it was risky, getting too attached so soon, but her fears were slowly leaving her, "he can't eat diary products!"

"Ah! So that's the source of your reluctance!" The woman seemed happy and placed the divider away and motioned for the tanned girl to go with her; after a bit of hesitance, she followed the woman, who placed a stool so the small girl could look at the flavors. "Now here, we have the nutty section, made mostly out of almond milk; most fruits are made with soy, and the special flavors, like the ones made from chocolate, vanilla, Hershey or peanut butter, are made with rice milk. It's funny how it works, but it works. Your dads already paid for a two scoop cone, I'll let you have a third scoop, on the house."

The wink made her giddy and she smiled. She was back behind the divider when the Fabray family entered.

"Lucy!" The woman greeted warmly, "Britt is over by the back; I'll get you your usual treat then you can take Rachel and go over and introduce them."

"Yes ma'am," the young blonde stated, almost stammering.

Fran chuckled softly, enjoying the display of defiance from the woman regarding her father. Russell could do nothing though, seeing as his best friend was the admin and husband of the woman, and they had gotten in plenty of arguments which the man often won, seeing as he never disrespected the Fabray women, so he wasn't going to tolerate disrespect towards the Pierce ladies.

Rachel's cone was swiftly made, with Lucy Quinn's being the same as hers, and they were ushered to the back. With one last glance, the brunette smiled when Frannie went to her fathers and began making some small talk, primarily gushing over the boy.

"Lucy Q!" Another blonde squealed, she was a little shorter than the blonde she was hugging, but still taller than the tanned girl. "Who is your new friend?"

It was clear that the girl was hyperactive, and without waiting for an answer, she turned to the brunette with a grin, passed the three scoop cone to her friend then went for a bone crushing hug. This earned her a hiss and so the Jew was immediately placed down.

"I'm sorry!"

"It's okay," Rachel tried, taking a deep breath and wincing a bit again, but managed an honest, if a little tuned down, smile, "I was hurt before coming here, I was just treated in the hospital —"

"Are you the new kid?"

"I'm Rachel Barbra Berry," she said with a bright smile, happy with her new name, "named Barbra after my favorite musical star, Barbra Streisand."

"I'm Brittany S. Pierce," the blonde had clearly forgotten the incident and was smiling equally bright; Quinn returned the cone she had as the introductions were made, "not Britney Spears."


	3. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer_: me owns nothin'.

**WARNING**: Time jump! Also, Finn may appear a bit OoC.

MI's Note: this time, we get to meet Santana who gladly goes Lima Heights on the new girl, and we see Rachel retaliating; how two years can change and, we also get to learn some of those skills our diva learned while in different foster homes.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Lions' Den**

Chapter 1

Rachel was scared. She could go to Carmel High, a rather nice public school with an excellent arts program. LeRoy, being knowledgeable in arts, practically squealed when she got accepted, singing praises to their vocal coach that came from New York, and she simply smiled and agreed with it. Only Hiram noticed the girl's reluctance, so he approached her room and gave a delicate knock on the frame, letting her know he was there. Last Christmas she had been given her own room, thankfully Holly was there to solve any inquires a girl her age could have; she had Caroline for her first monthly visitor, but she still found them troublesome. It was nice to be able to talk with a woman about them, the pains, and other such things.

"Star," because she had the makings of one, he would say when she had asked why the nickname, "you do know you can also go to McKinley with your friends."

"I don't want to disappoint dad, daddy," she replied, looking sad. Calling them in such a fashion, after two years, now came naturally.

"Baby girl, the last thing you need is to be pressured into doing something you don't want to do," the man replied, going to her side by the bed, where she was curled at the head of it, "or something you're not even sure you want. You have a lovely voice, yes, but maybe it's best for you to just try adjusting back into the educational system."

"Perhaps I did get carried away," the male diva stated as he entered the room, going immediately to the closet, "if you want to go to WMHS its okay, you don't even have try out for glee club."

"Or any other club for that matter," the tall one added hurriedly, "also, I hope you don't get into fights; the only reason why I wanted you to learn formal defensive methods, was just so in case you have to put them to use, you wouldn't hurt yourself or the other person."

"I promise daddy," now she looked at more ease, knowing that they were expecting her to do well in general and not in something specific.

That first day, she almost broke her promise to her father. She watched a teacher ignore a boy who clearly needed help and when the biggest boy stopped, she breathed a sigh of relief. She didn't know the boy, but she had been picked on enough to know for certain she didn't like for others to be subjected to it. But the pause was done for the boy's jacket to be spared, and she saw her dad in the boy. She didn't hesitated, she jumped in.

"Stop!" They did as she requested, taking her clothes in; she was wearing mixed socks, they were that way for a reason, and they looked good on her black Converse shoes, a plaid short skirt, courtesy of her best friend, but she had a sweater with a cartoon lion. "Noah, what are you doing?"

"Who are you weirdo?!" Another boy asked with a sneer, not expecting the furious response from their resident badass.

"A word or touch against her," he moved to stop the boy's hand from touching his Jew Babe, "and I swear I'll beat you up."

"Noah?" The boy who was commanding them asked, looking at his best friend with a frown, clearly puzzled.

"That's his name," the girl stated, clearly exasperated.

"Puck, who is this and why what she says even matters?" The boy asked with a huff, not liking being undermined by the short girl. "Are you even supposed to be here?"

"She's as old as us dude," Noah replied, shoving the boy a bit, "and she's my Jew Babe and no _one_ messes up with her,"

"Why were your going to hurting him?" She demanded of her best friend, with big brown eyes just _begging_ to know why he was hurting others, and he felt shame. "Noah, why? Just tell me why."

"Because it's how it works," the other boy replied with another huff.

"Finn . . . ." He warned; this was between him and his Hot American Jewish Princess, and he would be damned if his best friend got in the way.

"What!? It's the truth, it's the way the system works, with —"

"Maverick my man," he pushed his best friend a bit, making the other frown, "shut it! She's new to school and my Jew Babe, so she's to be respected!"

"Jeesh man!" The bigger boy stepped back, not liking the conflict or how he seemed to lose control of his best man, so he would rather placate the Jewish boy. "What happened to bros before hoes?"

"She's like a brother to me," Noah hissed right on his friend's face so only he heard; he also caught onto the fact that the word was 'brother' and not 'sister', "you know not of what I've done for her, or her for me!"

"Fine!" He gripped, just wanting to get things back to its usual order. "This isn't worth it! Let's go guys, I'm bored already.

"Be ready for it this afternoon, Hummel," he threatened the boy, shoving his jacket back at him.

"No you won't!" The girl stated with conviction and Finn could admit, he liked that, being defied. It was probably why he liked Quinn so much. "I'll stop you from doing this!"

"You?" Finn sneered a bit, really liking the defiance. "You and what army?"

"I'll back her up," Puck stated, standing behind the girl and in front of the boy, "and you guys better believe me, we do more damage than an army."

"Really, you want to upset the balance?" At the serious look from his best friend, Finn sighed and just shrugged. "Fine, there's a ban on dumpster dumping, but slushies aren't our call, so that's up to her."

"Wow, I've never seen something like this happening before," the boy they had just saved remarked, looking as the others simply went back to school.

"You're here later than I presumed."

"And Puck is actually speaking like a decent human!" They ignored him.

"I had some trouble this morning," she confessed, tugging at her sweater a bit, "my dad didn't want me to wear it."

"But you felt the need for comfort," he said with a soft smile.

"Oh look, a Neanderthal that can relate to others!"

"Can it, Lance Bass," the boy said without even a huff, "come along Jew Princess, I'm showing you our grand, miserable school to you; your castle, if you will."

"Hey guys, wait!" The boy stopped them by standing before them, not letting them pass, he then extended his hand to the girl, who looked puzzled before taking it. "I'm Kurt Hummel."

"Oh! Sorry, right, where are my manners?" She was lost a bit, as though looking for the place _where_, "I'm Rachel Barbra Berry."

"Berry?!" It was surprising, to say least.

"Yes?" She was now puzzled.

"Got a problem, Hummel?" Noah demanded lowly, making the boy take his hand back in fear. He shook his head, making the feral, predatorily smile of the Jew boy come; this made the pale boy a bit nervous. "Good. Better keep it that way and out of ours."

"Noah!"

"What?! Just because I saved his sorry ass, it doesn't mean I like him!"

"Language!" The girl frowned at him, just to be poked and tickled for a bit.

Unknown to them, they had quite an audience, and many weren't happy. Finn didn't like the threat the girl could possible stand up for, Hank knew he would have some trouble with Puck, and certain Latina looked about ready to commit murder. Specially when certain blonde tackled the petite girl into a tight embrace.

It was going to be one hell on a year.

* * *

Sandy Ryerson wasn't liking the new year so far; his female lead, a stellar Cheerio with delusions of grandeur had quit, since she had been banned from the squad once Sue learned about her treachery and it left her captain-less, making her hate the man _and_ his little band of misfits. Now a senior, the girl had been allowed back into the squad under a new regimen, and completely fearful of even considering helping the club out. Going to the auditorium, his favorite hunting grounds during breaks but more because he took joy in the gloom and darkness of it, suiting his mood fervently. It wasn't like he could go up on the stage with the boy and sing with him, and that just made him even more resentful.

Imagine his surprise when he found a single light on the stage, and it was doubled when he saw a small figure going towards it. Without mic or any other device but the spotlight shining over her, Rachel began singing. _Counting Stars_ by OneRepublic had a ring to it, specially since her father's constantly told her she was a star, destined for greatness. Since learning about metaphors, she kept searching for one to describe her, feeling it important, but since she wasn't sure what she wanted, she opted for the simple analogy of being one among many, and maybe, if she finally found how, she would do her best to shine the brightest.

Finishing, she took a deep breath as well as her bow, not expecting the excited claps and the 'bravo' being exclaimed. Hadn't she been alone all along? It was disturbing, not knowing when she had been sneaked upon, and it left her shaken; she didn't like being surprised, and it felt more like an ambushed but anyway.

"Oh, it should be brava!" The man, a pale creature with receding hairline and glasses, praised her and approached with excitement, clearly not noticing or choosing not to see, her reluctance and out-of-depth demeanor. "Bra-_Va_! An amazing audition — I must say I'm surprised by your level — we can start practice Thursdays and . . . Mondays, yes, Monday is a good day to start. Oh, don't worry about the other days, with your level, I'm sure you'd be fine."

"I'm sorry, but for what did I just audition —"

"Glee club my dear!"

"I think there's been a mistake, Mr . . . ."

"Oh, call me Sandy, my dear . . . ."

". . ." She seemed to ponder things as the man stood in front of her, "right then, _Sandy_, I'm afraid you misunderst —"

"Nonsense my dear!" He interrupted, making her frown. It had been a long, long time, two long years in fact, since she was shoved aside and used, and she wasn't ready to allow that to start back again.

"Look, _Sandy_, I wasn't auditioning and I'm not going to join glee club," she stated with conviction, stomping her foot just to help enunciate her message, "I'm new to the school and I'm not ready for clubs. I want to set my pace and _then_, maybe, join a club."

"But my dear, I _need_ you!" He stated.

"And I'm flattered but," she shook her head then sighed, "I'm looking out for myself, and what _I_ need, is certainty of where I stand, before jumping off a cliff."

Of course, that hadn't occured to her before trying to save one young Kurt Hummel from — what was the term the other boy used, dumpster diving? — right before school began.

Still, with that statement, she turned around and walked off, hugging herself tighter, as it pressed her sweater even closer, making her feel a lot better. Caroline was there with her, and so everything would work out. As Christians saw it, her best friend was looking out for her, her own personal guardian angel. If only. Jew's saw things quite differently but she wasn't going to work the semantics out; for now, she would take joy in a different belief just because it brought her peace, the rest she could work out later.

Sadly, it wasn't the last thing she would see of the man. As she moved a few lose binders around her locker, just to place something there (she had brought them for that sole purpose) along with several new books she had to take care of, she was surprised when, from one of the binders she was shuffling around, a yellowish brown packet was tossed around. It said _Chronic Lady_ and she peered at it, perplexed. Right then, the man from the auditorium came around and took it.

"Follow me, miss," the man said, pocketing the weed as she sighed, closed her locker and followed him, looking wary. They entered one of the classrooms, the one he used for glee club, suggested she sit as he took the piano bench and placed it by the desk. Then, with a mighty sniff, he sat down on it. Unknown to him, the girl had a recording app from her phone up and running. "Now, Ms. Berry, it seems like we have a problem."

"It isn't mine." She said with finality.

"Then, do tell, how did it get into your locker?" He asked with a knowing smile, and she already felt sick with the way the system worked; it was the foster system all over again.

"Maybe you can tell me?" She asked back, managing to control her spiking and raging emotions. "Seeing as how you were conveniently passing by when I found it myself."

"So you didn't leave it there?"

"If I brought it, I would have left it somewhere it wouldn't fall," she deadpanned, not wanting to walk right into his trap, "and not at all in plain sight."

"Sadly, we all make mistakes."

"Yes, and this will be yours if you try to use this into making me join glee club."

"Well, I want you to sing there, and you obviously don't need this in your record."

"You have no proof it's mine."

"It was in your locker." He was losing his temper; it was supposed to be easy.

"If it was mine, it would have my prints," she stated with conviction; she was now glad Hiram enjoyed the cops shows and allowed her to watch them with him. "I've never touched it, so you won't find any."

"Fine, I placed it there!" He was growing more and more _frustrated_. Why couldn't it be easy? At least with Henry, he had managed to engage the boy on it and it had solved several problems. "Happy? Now, if you don't join . . ."

She had her phone in her hand, and a few tap laters, he heard his voice clearly stating the weed was his. Pocketing it, she leaned forward, knowing he was nervous enough and feeling thrilled with acting like in the shows she watched with her daddy. Clearing her throat, the Jew tried to keep her emotions in check.

"So, do you deal around school?"

* * *

"Hey, isn't that Henry?" Rachel asked her best friend as they, along with the rest of the school's community, watched as the boy and man were taken in on police cars. "What happened?"

"I knew he was a dealer," he replied offhandedly, shrugging even, "I just made it public and now, he has to leave the school."

"You did it on purpose," she accused, still smiling a bit and hugging him, "thanks for taking care of me."

"Always, Jew Babe," he replied softly, smiling. "Now, care to share your information?"

"That _man_ heard me sing," she rolled her eyes, "tried to pin me with his medical . . . _marihuana_, but I got him on tape revealing he had planted it."

"Ah . . . ."

"Yeah . . . it isn't certain if he supplied Hank though," she had connected the dots, as had the boy besides her. "Oh well, at least neither of them will be able to bother me now."

"I told you I would take care of you," he said with a loopy grin, "come along, you don't want to miss your next class."

"Whom is it that you fancy enough to be so gallant with me?" She teased, yet she meant the question because, ever since he helped her find her first class, he had been studious about who had been in it. Up to now though, there was only one constant in all her classes. "Is it Quinn?"

"You know her?" He asked, clearly surprised, and she could just chuckle.

She knew her enough to know that, since last year, the blonde started going by her middle name. Why? It would be anyone's guess, but the tanned teen suspected it had something to do with her sister leaving off for college. But that was just a guess.

"So it is her, isn't she," she teased him again, but he simply gave her his patented predatory smirk, and she shook her head. "You're incorrigible."

He laughed at that. "And you love me that way."

"I just love you," and the simplicity of her statement _finally_ made him blush. "I learned not to condition it; I don't want you to love me if I'm not being obnoxious or talking your ear off, just to love me — 'despite' might not be the right word, but it works — all of those flaws."

"So you love me even if I'm an incorrigible fool who only thinks about sexy ladies?"

"As long as you don't see me as one of those '_sexy_' ladies," she sighed, enjoying his embrace as they walked around the school, not caring for the rumors that might spread, "I don't think even _our_ friendship, or partnership, whatever you want to label this like —"

"Sibling-hood?" He supplied, making her beam.

"That even _our_ sibling-hood could survive if you see me like that," she actually sounded a bit sad while he himself chuckled deeply.

"Not to worry Princess," he smirked, "I'm here for you to practice with, but you're still more of a brother than anything."

"And I take that as a compliment."

"As you should." His solemn tone made her giggle and he watched her take a seat, frowning when he didn't see the blonde he looked for.

"Rachie!" Britt squealed, behind her was the blonde he was searching for, and he allowed his eyes to linger.

"Bree-Britt!" It was a special nickname she had given the girl after hearing her sing; she had stammered a bit, but the girl took it literal and since, she hadn't bothered to correct the Dutch and simply stuck with it. "I'm glad we're sharing math."

"Yeah, you actually know how to explain things," she stated happily, going up to the other girl who was actually sitting in the border of the chair, ready to run it would seem. "I'm so glad you decided to come here!"

Brittany had grown taller, but was the same gushing loving child she had met. There had been times in which she hadn't been able to see her friend on the tracks, mostly due to Leon being grumpy and in need of a nap, but they had grown close thanks to Holly's lessons and their Sundays together.

They were so close, that the blonde simply took a seat behind Rachel, _literally_, and dropped herself in a figurative slow glomp, covering the petite teen entirely with her frame. The Jew actually enjoyed the intimacy, cherishing her few friendships, and leaned back against her hold. If rumors about Puck had been going wild, now everyone would begin to spread others about the new girl being in a relation _with_, not only the current badass of McKinley, but the sweetest, most flexible girl on campus. They could only imagine what those two would be like together, let alone with the stranger in the mix.

Of course, the boy rejoiced in them, and how he was depicted as one hot Casanova, actually getting more phones on his already nice black notebook, but now they were throwing themselves at him. The girls didn't care for what others said, being perfectly happy in their own world.

Their math teacher tried to get the girls apart, but finally surrendered with a blush and a shake of his head. If their individual pouts were magnificent weapons on their own, combined, they were simply killers. Not that they noticed or cared, simply happy to find they could stay as they were, completely disregarding the seating arrangement. The man decided to let them keep it up, if the blonde's raised hand were to become more frequent, as well as the correct answers she gave. It was also clear that the petite tanned child had nothing to do with it, as neither girl spoke to each other. And while Rachel _did_ write things down, Brittany had the answer before her friend was done writing.

"See you at lunch Rach," Britt said with a wave, happy to receive one in exchange as she left for her own locker.

Puck had been acting like one tough body guard slash boyfriend, but seeing as there was no threat of a slushy, he decided not to worry during lunch. Truth was, Quinn had been receiving conflicting information at her house. Her father condemned the family for their illicit acts while her mother, Judy, would often speak about the redemption the girl should be allowed to have. So the young Fabray was left without a clear path; should she pick on the adopted kid or try befriending her and guiding her into the path to redemption? She still didn't know. Hence, for the time being, the HBIC decided to not send slushy orders, and without being the first to give command, the common targets were still taken while the brunette was left alone.

Or, until the second in command, decided to do something and play her cards. On her locker, Rachel had one of the pictures Caroline had taken of the two of them, both sporting same, beaming smiles, as they had been laughing before she took it. There was another one of her and Leon, as she carried the boy, cooing at him and both looking simply adorable. She even had one with her new family, as she held the baby with the two men around her, their arms forming an X across her back as their hands rested on her shoulders. They didn't look proud, just happy to have her in their lives. The pictures meant a lot. She wanted to add one of her and Noah, along another one of her and Britt. Placing her books inside, she closed it and turned towards the cafeteria; it had been the first place Noah had shown her.

It was unexpected, totally and completely out of the left field. And it had come from right in front. It was the shock, more than the cold, which stunned her, not to say it _wasn't_ cold. Doing a quick list in her head, she confirmed that yes, this was something that wasn't even done in the system, and there were some pretty messed things that were. It was then that she began feeling the cold, or maybe it was the dread. She felt panic trying to grip the edge of her consciousness, and she went to the closest source of water; she didn't care for a bathroom specifically.

The brunette was oblivious to the laughter, as the rest of the student body figured justice had finally been done; not even the jocks who were new students, got off so easily. It died down when they noticed she was at the nearest water fountain, wiping the cherry slushy off her face and with certain care. Uncomfortable, they shifted, not quite looking at the girl any longer, as she wasn't in tears or even ashamed, or running to the closest bathroom. Her relief was palpable and they moved back a bit, not really understanding what was going on.

"Hey midget, the bathroom's that way," the Latina stated with a snarl, and everyone began to laugh until the petite girl turned and smiled warmly at the taller tanned teen.

"Thanks," everyone gaped at the dripping honesty; the raven haired female recoiled, as if she had been slap and the words oozed with venom. Maybe then she would have know how best to tackle the situation, "I don't want my sweater to get stained."

"I should save you the trouble," at the puzzled look, she frowned even more, "and just _burn_ it."

The new girl gasped. "Take it back! This was a gift from someone —"

"With bad taste," the Latina finished with a smirk.

"I said," the girl seethed, clearly not caring that her attacker was taller, "take, it, _back_."

"Make me." Neither was happy with the way things had turned out, but the tough girl would be damned if she backed down.

Santana Lopez was known for her lack of restrain and amicability. She was a badass who wasn't afraid of using force to get her way, and here was a pipsqueak excuse of a girl, trying to get her to back down. Now, with most of the student body there, all the losers and no better half of hers in sight or knight in badass armor to save the kid, she was going to go Lima Heights on the little bitch. That would teach her her place, which was clearly _way_ beneath the second in command, and way beyond sub-basement.

With a feral growl, the Latina took the brunette by the shoulders and slammed her against the lockers. But since Rachel was completely healed from her latest rendezvous-gone-bad with Noah, she didn't even feel the pain of the bitings combination locks, she merely shoved the long limbs out of the way. She only managed to make the elbows give a little way, a surprised tall girl managing to catch herself before their heads hit, just to be head butted by the short stack. The hit left her dazed, forcing her hands to her forehead to asses the damage and try to regain some footing.

But, she must have been out of street fighting cred; this wasn't a formal fight, there was no referee to stop them and Rachel was going to get her apology. Taking her chance, the Jew sidestepped her opponent, forcing the taller girl to her knees with a hit to the back of one and pushing her down by the shoulders. Once her attacker was on their knees, she took tanned arms from behind and into the back, making the raven-haired girl puff her chest out and a clear pop was heard. Santana shouted in pain at having both of her shoulders dislocated; she was also forced to look back. At least her cheerleading granted her the flexibility.

"You'll apologize," the brunette requested, the pain in her chocolate orbs evident.

"Like hell!" The Latina snarled, hissing a bit.

"You'll apologize, and I'll pop them back in place and you'll be able to use your joints easily," the brunette repeated, "you just have to apologize."

It was then that she saw it, and the tanned girl on her knees swallowed. She knew that look, she had seen it in her own eyes, and she felt awful. There had been an incident about a year ago with Brittany, it was when she had realized just how much she felt for the blonde Dutch. The bike's brakes hadn't function properly and the girl had been thrown off; if her father, Dr. Lopez, hadn't been there, it was possible that her best friend wouldn't have made it. Santana then remembered that she, in fact, had seen the girl now dominating her back then, telling the blonde she would personally fix her bike.

There was a difference from the terrorizing fear she had seen in her eyes on a mirror back then, and it was clear that the brunette had lost that person, unlike Santana, who still had her best friend Britt. And her own dark eyes conveyed her regret and apology. Seeing it, the dominating one dug her middle fingers on the underside of the upper arm and, as she had promised, placed (or rather shoved) the arms back into their respective sockets. The pain spiked and the Latina snarled, shoving the girl back and ready to tear at her throat when she noticed that yes, it didn't hurt but on the place the girl had made pressure.

"Sanny!" She winced; that was her better half and about to scold her.

But her eyes never broke connection with the clearly knowledgeable petite demon, and she was once again, taken aback, as tears of pain, pain for having gone so far but none of regret, fell from those eyes. "I'm sorry." And the words that should have left her mouth, were coming from the owner of those, forever haunting chocolate orbs. Her world could have easily crashed against another planet right then, for she didn't know what to do; never in her sixteen years of life, had she met someone quite like the girl standing right before her.

"Rachel!" She knew the boy, he was Kurt, but before she could do or say something, her own shoulders were being squeezed and forced her to turn and face those baby blue eyes she could never deny.

"B."

"Why!?" She was stunned; her friend wasn't one to usually stick for others, and would actually let Santana's inner bitch go off and wreak havoc. "Why would you pick on Rachie?! I asked you not to tease her, or slushy her S, so why?!"

"I'm sorry B," the Latina sighed, knowing she had messed up, and badly. Taking the blonde into a soft embrace, she finally relaxed when it was returned. "I promise you, I won't do it again."

She meant it. Not because she wanted her ass handed back down to her, but because she hated that haunted and tormented look, and despite her bitchy attitude, she wasn't capable of being mean to someone when their pain exceeded hers. Few, usually no one, could completely understand the level of pain she would be submitted to, not even Q, her other best friend, because, well, that blonde suffered from a different ailment than her; she could tell the petite creature had experienced both and other worse symptoms of uncaring parents.


	4. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer_: me owns nothin' but zee idea behind zee concept. This is a work of fiction and any relation to real life situations are purely coincidental. I mean it!

MI's Note: this time, we get to meet some of the glee clubbers, Rachel deals with her first slushy, with no emergency kit to help either, and some disruption in Spanish class. Wooo!

And, just FYI: the translations are done by yours truly, and they aren't literal, they're written to capture the essence of what's said, and for them to sound fun, and if possible, kind of rhythmic? Any way, let me know your thoughts please, xB

* * *

**Lions' Den**

Chapter 2

Kurt had taken his savior to the closest girl bathroom, he was being followed by the new glee club but Artie, who stood outside standing guard. Mercedes just stood by and watched, clearly impressed, while Kurt and Tina worked on the brown locks of silky hair. Soon, it was washed and dried, but her sweater had been _indeed_ stained, if a little, and she couldn't wear it. Without it, she looked decent; there was no argyle, just a nice, solid dark pink vest (with a pocket watch) over her delicate, white sleeveless shirt. Rachel definitely had some assets that she should be displaying without shame.

"Thanks Kurt," she said, giving the boy a smile as he busied himself with her hair.

"You helped me out before," he replied with nonchalance, "it's the least I could do."

"Where did you learn to fight like that girl?" The dark-skinned girl who hadn't raised a finger to help asked with a craned brow.

"My daddy taught me," she replied, trying to leave but every time she moved, the boy found something else to work with. "He thought it was best if I learned how to use my body properly instead of hurting myself or others beyond . . . I don't know."

"D-d-d-d — do you think you co-co-could teach me?" The Asian asked with awe.

"Tina?" They had met once; the youngster's mother had the best organic orchard the Jew had the awing pleasure of seeing, but they hadn't talked much beyond the usual exchange of pleasantries. "Tina Cohen-Chang?"

"Ye-yes?" Her surprise was evident, as was the cautious way she was being approached. The brunette looked at her up and down, even going around her. "Have we met?"

"Briefly, yes," the enigmatic reply ended with Rachel standing in front of the now-nervous girl. "When we did, you didn't stutter, had confidence in your step, and actually spoke a bit more. What happened?"

"School did," the girl replied softly, scowling at the tiled floor, suddenly remembering who the girl before her was. She had actually given her an ointment of her mother's finest. "Did your back get better?"

Rachel just smiled, extended her hand which the younger girl took without real consciousness, and the petite girl guided them all from the bathroom, letting go of the hand as they began walking towards the cafeteria.

"Loads, your mother has magical hands," it was obvious she wasn't kidding as she said those words; Tina blushed in pleasure at hearing those words. "I've been there several times with my dads but, I didn't see you again. . . ."

"Yeah . . . my mom wanted me to tend some plants, and my dad wanted me to see how to make an ointment —" she froze, realizing the other two were staring at her, and how she wasn't stuttering any more. Artie had left to get his own lunch.

"Well, I'm sure you'll be as good as them," she said as they made their way to the cafeteria, "if not better. But I stand by my observation; you're a great singer."

"Thanks," she was blushing a bit again, "when you caught me sing to the plants, I was beyond embarrassed, but thanks to you, I decided to join glee club."

"Wait, that club is still running?" Why would it? "Wasn't _Sandy_ the director?"

"Yeah, but now Mr. Schue runs it," the Asian replied as they entered the common room, "he's the Spanish teacher.

"Oh, you should totally join!" Noticing the others were gone to the line and that her friend wouldn't eat anything that was served there, she took out a notebook, scribbled something then gave the sheet to Rachel with a smile. "Just in case. Having a good day."

"Thanks Tina, same for you as well," she had a puzzled smile, then read what was on the paper; the locker and combination to it of the younger girl, along with a note that indicated if she wanted something to eat, she had brought something her mom had prepared. Meaning, it was vegan. She turned but before she could look for someone, anyone, she was enveloped in a warm and tender embrace. "Hey, Bree-Britt, I'm guessing you learned what happened —"

"I saw Rachie," the smaller teen froze; just like she didn't like violence and only used it as last resource, the blonde holding her didn't, not even as last resource. "I'm sorry Rach, very sorry."

"I'm the one who should be apologizing, Ducky," she teased, and both relaxed; once again confusion assaulted the tanned of the pair as the Dutch began pulling her, "where are we going Bree?"

"To have lunch!" She replied brightly, and sitting in the table she was guided to, was Quinn and — "You met Sanny; Sanny this is Rachie."

"Yeah I met the midget," the girl replied with sarcasm, and the brunette wisely decided to sit besides Quinn, who gave her a soft smile.

"Santana Lopez, daughter of the good doctor who attended you that Saturday." The subdued blonde introduced. "Santana, this is Rachel Berry."

"Be nice," both blondes added, and under the intense look of those blue orbs, the Latina rolled her eyes and, with a scowl, she opened her lunch case and passed three to each plate. "Ohhh! Rollitos!"

"These are leafy, 100% veggie rolls with a bit of spicy salsa," the Latina said as Quinn took the plates they had previously taken from the cafeteria line and lined them in front of Brittany, who began placing some rice in it, "since our coach is adamant about what we eat, we only eat a bit of carbohydrates and plenty of veggies with a protein shake."

"That quiet a diet," she said quietly, "I'm not sure I would be able to follow it."

"No one expects you to, dwarf," and at the scowls she received from the the two blondes, she winced a bit; she couldn't take pleasure in being mean to the brunette, at least not while she wasn't being all touchy with _her_ B.

"I'm sorry," once again, the words were taken from her and spoken by the one who should have been receiving them. "I should have never allowed you to do lead me."

"I . . . shouldn't have driven you to that point," the Latina confessed as her girl passed them their respective plates, "I had no right. But, why are you so close to that hideous sweater?"

"My best friend died three years ago," she confessed, looking at her plate and munching on a bite of rice, brightening up considerably and taking a bigger bite, chewing, mindful of every movement of her jaw and obviously savoring it with delight. "All her clothes, I took them, seeing as she had requested the doctor to ensure that much was done.

"Wow, Santana, these leafy rolls are delicious," she literally moaned, though softly, at the taste of said rolls, going as far as to shudder a bit, "I must ask though, what's up with the nicknames?"

"Something Q and I do in our spare time," the Latina confessed, smirking at the fact that she didn't have to say anything, and her apology was already accepted. It had been since her eyes showed her regret, not that she was willing to admit that either. "Yours though, are awesome, specially from her part."

"S, no —" but there was no stopping the Latina.

"RuPaul seems to be a favorite of hers," she snickered, impressed when the girl wasn't bothered by it, "then there's Man Hands, Treasure Trail, and Stubbles.

"I'd rather go with Hobbit, Dwarf, Smurf, Midget —"

"Enough!"

"Sanny, you said you wouldn't be mean."

"It's okay, just a few observations," the Jew turned to the blonde at her side, who was blushing, "why do they have male connotations? Santana went for my height, so why attack my femininity?"

"Will you believe me if I said I had no idea?" She requested with embarrassment etched on her face; thankfully, the petite girl just shrugged.

"I am sitting here," Puck stated, not leaving it up to debate as he sat down besides his Jew Babe. "Hey, heard you had a nasty encounter with the top bitch."

"And don't you forget it!" Santana stated with a snarl, visibly calming when the blonde to her side placed a gentle hand near of her personal zone; where exactly, they couldn't see, but it was likely to be the thigh.

"Well, we have managed to solve it," she turned to the blonde on _her_ side, "with Santana at least; it seems I still got more people to befriend."

"Yeah?" He inquired after taking a bite out of his burger, more than half going into his mouth.

"Noah!" She frowned at him. "Manners!"

He swallowed after five chews, grinning at the aghast look on the brunette's face and nipping at her ear, or tried to. When she shrilled and shied away, he laughed and went back to his burger.

"I would tickle you, but I actually like what you're wearing," he teased, going back to his half burger and about the half-a-dozen left on his tray.

"You're ticklish?" Quinn sounded amused, if her question was any indication.

"Who isn't," at the puzzled looks, she shrugged, "there are always certain areas in which the sensation is increased and so, ticklish."

"Really?"

"Yes, but it also depends on the pressure being applied."

"How do you know all this?" The one who asked frowned a bit as she realized something, and decided to inquire on it as well. "And how did you take the pain from my joints when you returned my arms to their sockets?"

"One of the homes I was in, the man was a chiropractor, the woman a masseuse," she replied with a light and sad frown, "they were good and decent people, but they used us to learn; we were no better than guinea pig."

"Lord Tubbington doesn't like those piggies." As if thinking better of her previous statement, the cat owner amended, "or the green ones who steal the birdies eggs."

"As the woman trained on me, perfecting her technique, I learned more about my body and where those zones can be found," another shrug, "it was all good until the man crippled a boy by accident."

"So, those zones are found in everyone, right?" The blonde to her side asked, leaning a bit so their shoulders touched and the brunette blushed; it was well hidden by her tan though. "Show me one?"

"Well, the ear, just the shell and lobe, are rather sensitive spots," she said, tracing the spots she mentioned lightly against the blonde, "and the back of it can also be a good spot; pulse points if you have an specific activity in mind, then again, collar bones can be used to make the skin itch."

"Wow, that's an awful lot," Santana added, drinking her shake; she snapped the brunette from her tracing trance though, and the girl resumed eating another veggie roll. "What about the sides and ribs?"

"Classic tickling spots," she replied after swallowing, "but the soles of the feet are, if well used, excellent places to manipulate the rest of the body."

"What about the spots on the underside of the arm?"

"The arm pits?"

"No, Bree-Britt, she means these," Rachel raised her arm, leaving it folded at the elbow and pointed to a spot lower than half the length presented, a bit close to the anatomy the tall blonde had previously mentioned; she then turned to look at the others, lowering her arm, "those, if pressed right, can make the arm limp. Just like hitting a joint at the right angle and the person cannot flex it."

"Can you teach me?" Bright blue eyes widen at the possibilities.

"Is there someone you want to cripple to death?" It was scary how serious she sounded. "Because with your strength, you could."

"Was that how the kid ended up crippled?" Quinn asked softly, just to bite her lower lip at the nod.

"Okay, this table just got too dark for my taste," Puck remarked, belching a little; he received a punch on his shoulder from the girl besides him, but he just grinned since he was being acknowledged. "Just saying that's all."

"Not to worry, it has a happy ending of sorts," she replied with a roll of her eyes and turned to her audience of three girls. It was surprising, she liked the attention. "The kid left, feeling like a hero because he could do nothing, but to stay in a bed and possibly play video games till his sorry existence cease to exist."

"Ohhhh! Nice use of the word," Brittany stated with a nod. Soon, the bell rang. "Rach, what do you have next?"

"Spanish."

"With me and San and Q, yay!"

Rachel smiled. "Thank you guys for inviting me, the food was delicious."

"Yeah well, this is high school, alright hobbit?"

"She likes hobbits." The whisper was heard though.

"B!"

"It's the truth."

She smiled even brighter. She turned to face her best friend, who gave her a tight hug.

"I'm glad you're happy," he whispered to her ear.

"I'm gleeful to be here," she replied with a beaming smile and he placed her down.

"Run along," he teased, and at her pout, he laughed. "Your friends will leave without you Jew Babe."

She _eep_ed and ran off behind the girls, just to be pulled into another embrace. Yes, Rachel didn't think she could be happier. Right then, she received a new message from an instant messaging app, and it had a picture of Leon giggling like mad. She smiled. As it would be, she _could_ be happier. She showed the girls the picture, and all but the hardcore Latina _awwwww_ed at it.

"He has your eyes Q."

"Wait, what?!" Santana took the phone and peered at the digital image. "Damn Q, B's got a point."

The blonde in question blushed. Just watching that take place, made the brunette feel as though her belly was coiling on itself, tying a knot around her throat and her breath escape her lungs without conscious thought. After regaining herself and sitting with the pale Christian, seeing as the other two shared a table, she tried to analyze what was happening to her. But alas, class began.

"Hello guys, I'm Mr. Schuester, you may call me Mr. Schue and this is," he began writing on the board, "Spanish class."

"It already feels boring," she muttered with a pout, making the girl to her side giggle.

"And it has just begun."

"That sounds promising."

"Glad it does," it was the first time she saw the blonde grin genuinely, and she felt her pulse quicken and her belly jump on itself and as if she had bubbles filling it up, making it feel like butterflies trying to fly away, their wings brushing the walls of her stomach. It was unsettling, but incredibly breath taking, specially since she had been the one to place that smile there, "that was its intention."

Luckily, even if she didn't have a reply for that one, they had to face forward as the man began again. She sighed softly in relief, feeling her face burn and she was sure, this time, that not even her tan could hide her blush. As it was, her partner noticed. Her shoulder was bumped once again, making her blush harder and earning a soft giggle. Her pulse spiked, _again_.

"Why are you blushing?" The blonde giggled again and noticed the thick swallow from the Jew; she wasn't sure why, but she was enjoying teasing the girl besides her. "Was it something I said?"

"Try something you did," the brunette muttered softly, sighing and resting her chin on the desk.

That surprised the blonde, who blinked at the girl then realized it sounded an awful lot like flirting. _But, we barely know each other; Frannie knows her better for that matter — wait, **God**, what's wrong with me? No, it's clear she didn't mean it that way anyway. Right? But, if she does, should I worry?_ Left to her thoughts, Quinn turned back to face the front, not fully capable of understanding what was happening to her. _If she brings it up, then I'll ask her, but until then. . . ._

"Well, seems like someone is bored," the man tried to make it amicable teasing; the girl took it literally, but didn't get offended.

"I thought this was the intermediate advance course or something like that?" She inquired.

"Yes, it is," he replied, looking nervous.

"Well, this feels like intermediate basics," she replied with a shrug, "I feel like parrot."

"I don't think that's fair to your classmates," he realized that she was new right then.

"Right," she deadpanned, not feeling good at the moment; maybe she wasn't made for the spotlight.

"No wait, Berry," Santana, of course, felt the same way but an easy grade was all she was there for, "can you do a parrot interpretation with Spanish phrases?"

"How about Polly wants a cracker?" Britt suggested brightly.

"Wait, guys —"

"Perfect!" There was a twinkle in those dark eyes that made the Jew uncomfortable. She wasn't sure why though. "I bet you know other phrases, right hobbit?"

"As long as you don't call me Frodo," she said dryly, and at the expectant look from her best friend, she cleared her throat, ignoring the teacher, "_rrrrrraaa, polly quiere galleta._"

Santana laughed as the girl besides her said, "that was amazing!"

"Another one!"

"Do you know the one of the liberal parrot?" She just didn't say the phrase in Spanish, she actually sounded like a parrot, much to the Latina's joy.

"_Lorito real, visto de verde y soy liberal, rrrrraaa._" Royal parakeet, dressed in green and in the liberal wing.

"Good one," it was clear that the raven haired female was pleased, "do you know about the cat-chased parrot?"

"I won't do any more after that one," she told the girl seriously and was greeted by raised hands in mock surrender. She was surprised by the gesture and when the rest of the class complained with groans and moans of disappointment and it was then that she realized that she was in the middle of Spanish class. Blushing, she turned to the man. "Sorry Mr. Schue, I got carried away —"

"You know what," he realized that he didn't know her name, "just go ahead."

Surprised, she nodded and cleared her throat again. "_Corre corre corre cotorrito que te coje el gatooouuuuu._" Run, run, run little birdie that the cat is about to get thee.

"You run your R's like an expert," the Latina complimented, earning a blush.

Oh yes, she knew her Spanish, but to be told so by a person who grew up speaking the language, it was incredibly flattering. It gave her confidence in her auditive skills and pleased by the way her tongue worked. Rachel had forgotten about the school system she was slowly upsetting, ever since she first set foot in it. The class then proceeded as it should and after a slow, crippling period, the bell finally rang. Since the man was onto her, she didn't try to make conversation with Quinn.

"Ah, you didn't turn in the summer homework," the man said, stopping the Jew as she turned to leave.

"Sorry Mr. Schue, I had no idea there had been homework for the summer." She apologized.

"It's: _que hace el verano pasado_." The man stated.

"You mean: _que hiciste el verano pasado_, right?" Any hopes she had of learning more about the language were just shot down and left in ashes.

"Just, have it for next class," he requested, not seeing the insanity of having a long paper written down for Thursday; was the man mad or joking? "I might let go of the parrot incident then."

She scowled, hating (even if it _was_ a strong word) having to do something to make up for something she was given permission to do. Oh well, she had survived her first day of school, that was good. Her daddy picked her up with one gorgeous baby and soon, other rumors began spreading; Rachel Berry had a child, and it's probably the blonde's and Puck's love child, the reason why she's so close with those two. Brittany, of course, went to the baby, who now could string several words together and form a coherent thought, and he loved Brittany. As much as Noah, finding the older boy to be super cool. It only spurred the rumors further, and the origin of imah was revealed by the biggest gossiper. Jacob Ben Israel had no idea of what he was dealing with, he just knew that the brunette was hot, and he wanted her.

He wasn't the only male interested. Finn glared at the baby that was being held. He disliked the thought of someone else having touched something he considered his. As captain and quarterback of the football team, (sure, a mediocre team at best but that wasn't the point, or that he wasn't able to bring triumph or a win either, but that was still besides the point!) he ruled the school. Okay, so he used his girlfriend's powers, but that was besides the point, (_again_) and he wanted the new girl.

Scowling, he called his best friend over, motioning towards the field; it was practice time. He really needed to blow some steam.

* * *

The golden boy usually found some release during practice, if not, singing in the shower usually did the trick. It was why he would stay behind and take his shower later; the privacy and acoustics were awesome there, and the sound of his own voice was empowering.

"Finn, we need to talk." It was Mr. Schue. Why, right after his shower, did he have to be bothered?

"Ah, wait, I told you," he was frustrated enough as it was, and neither practice nor singing had helped, "I'm almost halfway done with almost all of it Mr. Schue, I swear!"

"This isn't about your summer paper," the man replied, taking a packet out and presenting it to then boy; Finn stared at it in shock. "You want to tell me how long you've had a drug problem?"

"I don't even know who the Chronic Lady is." Okay, so he did; his best friend wouldn't be Puck otherwise, but he had only ever tried it once and his mother had caught them and ever since, he didn't try it again. "It was just a one time — wait, where did you find that exactly?"

"Look, if it were up to me, we wouldn't have mandatory bi-weekly afternoon locker checks." The man stated raising his hands indicating that it was out of his.

"Wait Mr. Schue, since when are those done at school?" It was the first time he heard of them, and Puck would have easily been caught ages ago if that was so.

"Ever since Hank and Sandy were caught in possession, Figgins decided that these were in order," or he should have, and the curly-haired man would have suggested it if his latest encounter with Sue had left him eager to get her paranoid; he wasn't suicidal, "I'm afraid this means trouble."

"But I've never seen that before, Mr. Schue, I swear!" He was starting to panic. "It's not mine. I'll pee in a cup. I'll pee!"

"Look, it . . . it wouldn't make any difference. Possession is eight-tenths of the law. I'm pretty sure that much pot is a felony." He needed to keep things in check, else the boy would pressure for the test and he didn't want to go there. "Yeah. Look, you'll get kicked out of school. You'll lose your football scholarship."

"Wait . . . I had a football scholarship?" Why did he have to learn about such good things in the middle of bad ones? He could have told him mom! Made her even prouder, right? "To . . . to where?"

"You could land in prison, son." He needed the conversation back on track.

"Oh my God. Please, don't tell my mom." She would ground him for sure, even if he hadn't consume since that one time.

"Look, I see a lot of myself in you, Finn. I know what it's like to struggle to make good life choices, and I don't want to see you throw away everything you have to offer the world. I just expected more out of you, Finn." Seeing his words were affecting the boy, he gave himself a mental pat in the back. "We have two options here. I'm running detention now, so you can do six weeks after school, but that's gonna remain on your permanent record."

"What's the other option, Mr. Schue?" The last thing he wanted was to disappoint his mother.

"Well, I'm also running the new glee club, and we need more kids to join," he began.

"Wait Mr. Schue, I'm not ready to be a loser," he began; maybe disappointing the most important person in his life wasn't as bad as being at the low of the food chain.

"But see, that's exactly _why_ you should do it," now _that_ was confusing, "you're the captain and quarterback of the school, you're popular! If the school sees you doing it, they'll think it's cool."

"I don't think that's how it works," but he could see things working to his benefit, "but if you want a popular kid, try the new girl."

"Rachel Berry?"

"Yeah, she's changing things Mr. Schue," he sounded confident, but he had something else in mind; he didn't want her down, he just wanted her, and he might have found a way to do it. "I heard Mr. Ryerson tried to get her into his club, and she managed to get him canned."

"Well, I — I'll certainly look into it," he had the oddest sense of déjà vu.

"Then I'm in Mr. Schue," he said, already liking what he had in mind.

* * *

Rachel had been home, playing with Leon, when she received a message from her blonde friend. It had been an unusual request, for them to meet back at school, that she had seen an amazing duck and wanted to share. The brunette smiled to herself, told her daddy, and he gladly stopped trying to cook to take her over. The baby pouted at being left out, but she promised that the next time, she would take him. It brighten him enough and he was left in their dad's office; he had a new project, so he was busy looking through catalogs at possible furniture, plans of the house as well as pictures of it. The man wanted to assemble a portfolio with different colors and tones and possible furniture for the couple.

Leon was happy with his toys in his pen; he wasn't much of an attention seeker, not counting his Imah of course, but he loved the interactive toys, specially when the grown ups would play with him, so he was fairly easy. As long as there was someone there to watch him, and for him to know they were there, he was an adorable young man.

"Do you want me to wait?" Hiram asked as he parked by the school. "You know, I could teach you to drive."

It wasn't the first time it was offered, but for some reason, the girl was fidgety about cars, even when she knew how to fix them and bikes.

"How about we start next month?" She asked, hesitantly. "I also reserve the right to back down!"

He laughed and nodded. "Well, instead of martial arts lessons, now that we're done with them of course," it was amazing how quickly she learned when it was related to her body, "we can get to these lessons."

"You know what daddy," she began with a warm smile; now she understood why he had brought it up that summer, knowing her reluctance and slowly making her comfortable with the idea, it was so they still had something to do. "I would like that."

With her dad, it became easier once she understood what he meant about colors and arrangements, and of course, they had their Sundays of musical fun. Not that her daddy didn't enjoy those, he was an amazing dancer as it was, but he had other interests beyond those, and while she loved music more than anything, she liked learning about new things. Now, since they were relatively easy and her Jewish father took joy in teaching her, she took joy in learning.

"I'll hold you on to that one," he replied with a bright smile.

"You do that daddy," she teased smiling as she opened the door, "and I'm sure Britt will drop me off if I ask nicely."

"I'm sure you don't even have to ask," he remarked with a light laugh, "be sure to call us if anything comes up."

She nodded and closed the door. Taking a deep breath, she went ahead, not taking notice of the golden boy seeing her, and decided to follow along. Rachel was surprised when her directions led her to the room in which _Sandy_ had confronted her, and waiting there wasn't Brittany; there was a blonde there, yes, but obviously just to watch. Standing there, in the middle of the room, was a scowling Latina. Quinn looked incredibly bored, she was oveer by the piano and sitting on its bench. It wasn't clear what she was doing there, but before the Jew could feel cornered, strong, protective arms surrounded her waist and without anything other than the way they gently squeezed her a bit, she knew who it was.

"I'll keep watch over the door," Noah told the room, giving a kiss to his Jew Babe on the temple and winking at the blonde, who rolled her eyes at his antics. "If you're going to fight again, let me know; I'm sure I can make a mud pit of this room just yet."

He wasn't actually expecting to really protect it, but when he saw Finn he frowned.

"Hey, I just saw Rachel and —"

"What do you want with my Hot American Jewish Princess Finn?" It was the first time he had seen Puck sound and look serious.

"Chill man, what's this all of a sudden?" He began to feel left out. "I thought you had my back but this, what you have with her, _that_ is having someone's back."

"Once again, you don't know what I've done for her," he stated, pushing the boy away from the door and towards the exit, "_or_, what she has done for me."

"Oh come on man!" The golden boy frowned, stepping back but mostly because he knew the Jew could flatten him like toast. He kicked a locker. "What is it that she has done that I haven't huh?!"

"She stays with me even if the situation is dire," he replied darkly, "she doesn't run away at the sign of cops, she even goes with me to jail even when she did nothing but stand there and watch.

"And the times she _has_ been involved," he said, punctuating by poking the chest of the slightly bigger boy, seeing as he stopped, stunned by what his friend was confessing, "she had a really good reason, like protecting me from a punch that would hit me right in my eye socket and probably leave me with an injury that could cost me my future."

"Damn dude," no, it was something possible, "what've you been doing with this chick?"

"Things that I would only do with her," he said, making his (maybe) best friend back up against the doors, "not even with another dude, not after I know I have her, and she has my six.

"Now move it Finn," he demanded, pushing him outside the doors, "I don't trust you with her. I don't trust her with anyone."

With that statement, he turned back to stand watch. Finn just stared after him; now he _really_ wanted Rachel Berry for himself.

* * *

And about her, Rachel just smiled a half amused smile, rolling her eyes as well because, well, it was obvious her best friend meant it. At least she had some of her comfort back, and something told her B would be upset with the girl standing before her, and that said girl didn't want that to happen. It felt like she had the upper hand, but she wanted to stand on equal ground with Santana Lopez. With the mess she and her Jew Bro could get into, the doctor would be welcome ally.

"Look, midget," the rave haired from the group began, looking incredibly irked, "I don't do emotions or shit like that, not unless it's anger or its kind —"

"Is that why you like Brittany so much?"

"What?!"

"I'm not blind, and I know her, she can read anyone without problem," that left a gaping Latina before her, much to the blonde's amusement, "so you don't have to tell her, she already knows what you're feeling.

"Sadly, she isn't here to translate," she finished, uncomfortable at how she was being stared.

"Well, seems like she can read a situation," Quinn quipped, teasing smile on her face as her best friend turned to glare, albeit halfheartedly.

"Yeah . . . I asked you here —"

"Wait, you used Bree-Britt's phone to get me here?" The Latina growled, but the frown on the petite girl didn't leave, "that's invasion of privacy! Although I wouldn't have come otherwise."

"Are you done?"

"Sorry, I'll try not to interrupt you," Rachel backed away, mostly because she could tell there was an olive branch among all the weed and wilderness, "_again_."

"Good." A brief, tense silence, and the one who requested the meeting sighed a bit.

"Look, most people don't know pain, not real, actual, to the border of physical, emotional pain. I do, Q does," deep eyes turned with a calculated look at the girl, "and clearly, so do you. Since most don't know what it is, I try to inflict as much as I can."

"You clearly won't hesitate to inflict physical pain," the girl added and the other just nodded.

"I won't, and although I clearly underestimated you, I can also tell you've suffered enough," she meant those words; eyes could be read so easily, but only if the one who read them has had the same look themselves, "so I'll only say this once, and you'll never hear them come from these lips again.

"I'm sorry," it was obvious she meant those words, but she didn't like them, if her face was anything to go by.

"Well, how did _that_ taste," the blonde began teasing again, "coming from your mouth?"

"Like swallowing vinegar and having bile rising out," she spat, trying to be as graphical as she could.

"I accept your apology —"

"Good!" Rachel lost her train of thought at the interruption. "'Cause the nicknames stay."

"Wait — what?!"

"Okay, I'll call you Berry, because I don't do first names, only with Q and B, and let's face it, _R_ sounds too pirate-y."

"Fine, but you only got two other nicknames."

"Do I, _Berry_?"

"Yes, you do."

"I say you agree, S, just for the sake of it," Quinn remarked with a light, soft giggle.

"Fine —!"

"_And_, I have a final say," she added, making the Latina huff as the blonde laughed at their conversation, "you try to call me by any other, and I won't answer."

"_Fine_!" Santana cried, incensed. "But I'm calling you _hobbit_ no matter what!"

"As long as you don't call me _Frodo_, or any of their last names," the brunette began dryly, with a hint of amusement in her tone, "I actually like that one."

"Okay then, _midget_ —"

"And you have two nicknames," she stopped her, beaming.

"Oh for the love of —" _God_.

"Okay, can we get a move on?" Q requested, huffing a bit. "Brittany is probably waiting for you to take her home!"

"And Noah needs to go get his community service done," Rachel realized, with a sigh, that she would have to call her daddy back to pick her up. "So, Santana Lopez, are we friends now?"

"We are more like . . . good acquaintances than friends," the black haired teen replied with a soft smile, "but then again, I'm not ready for another friend."

"Then I shall await," the brunette went to the door and opened it, "till you've proved your friendship to me."

"Hey, that's my line!" Santana exclaimed as she followed behind, frowning but only earned a laugh and a wink from the petite girl. "Bitch, please!"

"You've been owned S," the blonde remarked, watching as the Jews laughed as the girl was spun around by the boy. "Come along and don't fight it; you already know you can't win, anyway."

"Yeah, guess you're right," the Latina grumbled, following behind. Right then, she was tackled by the tall blonde. "B!"

"Hey S, Coach Sylvester needed my help," she smiled brightly, "you know, with a new routine she wants for winning the championship.

"Rach, you should help us!" She added when she saw the brunette.

"Right now, I have to get a ride home," her friend said without compromise.

"My car only has room for one B," the Latina added softly, as soon as the blonde turned to face her.

"Your dad got you the red convertible?!" A gasp was heard from all but the brunette.

They all headed outside and saw that, yes, said car was being delivered right then. Puck went to his truck and the Christians and Jewish girls were left. Quinn remembered what her mother kept telling her about the girl, and that her father was off on a business trip.

"Rachel, would you like to join me and my mom for dinner?" She asked softly, as the girl left besides her dialed her daddy.

Of course, Judy wouldn't like the surprise being sprung on her, but she would like the fact that she was trying, she was at least trying.

"Oh, um, I'm vegan Quinn," the brunette pointed out, and the pale teen gave herself a mental face palm.

"I haven't forgotten Rachel," she said, but it was still early, and if the girl agreed, they would still have time to get to her house in time and inform her mother. "You still haven't answered my question."

"_Hello?_" A man called through the phone; now, Rachel could either request a ride, or she could inform she was having dinner with Mrs. Fabray and their youngest.


	5. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer_: I own the idea and general plot, nothing else.

MI's Note: I'm placing it at the end, seeing as they seem to be getting longer Dx xD

* * *

**Lions' Den**

Chapter 3

Judy Fabray had been surprised by their guest, but acted cordial nonetheless. Quinn was thankful that she didn't pull a 'oh, but she didn't tell me about it!' that she usually did whenever Santana appeared unannounced. There was no way her best friend didn't know it was her that the jab was directed towards, since the older blonde always said it while looking at the Latina, just to then look at the tall blonde and say that it was always nice to see her. Why her tanned best friend just grinned, was beyond her, but she was certain that it had something to do with it being done on purpose.

It wasn't that her mother didn't like Santana, it was that the girl simply did her best to get in her father's worst side and usually succeeded in getting a rise out of him. Quinn couldn't fault her best friend; the way he had treated her family had been awful, but when her father wasn't around and her friend came unannounced, the words were said as a tease. In retrospect, it was more likely a warning to indicate the head of the Fabray family was, or wasn't there.

"Vegan!" Quinn winced at the exaggerated reaction her mother had at the news, "why dear, that's perfectly healthy! Though protein should always be part of a diet; tell me, you had some soy or beans with your meal?"

"Not really," the girl confessed with an embarrassed, yet happy smile; she liked the older blonde already. "In my house we live out of take-out."

"Oh, of course, LeRoy only ever sees colors and how good something looks, and Hiram is good with his hand-eye and body coordination," the woman made a notion of waving it all off, clearly having had contact with both of her fathers, "it's no wonder they can't cook for their lives."

"And I forgot there's no vegan menu at the school," the girl added, just to beam in the direction of the younger blonde, who blushed at the look, "luckily, Santana had some veggie rolls —"

"Oh, Mrs. Pierce's rice-veggie casserole is simply delicious," the woman fanned her hand in an exaggerated manner, making the girls giggle and the ambience, a few notches calmer and easier. "Still, they have an all-meats day every Wednesday, just to keep their strength."

"Yeah, it's usually a light Monday, a fishy Tuesday, meaty Wednesday, with another fishy day followed by a light Friday, just in case we want to do something crazy during the weekend," Quinn added from her place, beaming at the routine that, of course, tended to shift from day to day, "it's a way to keep up with Sue's insane regimen, and still not faint any day in between. We got to keep our weight in check."

"You know, I'm sure it's going to be tough to get something to eat at school," Judy began, thinking about things while her daughter dreaded the result; a parent overthinking things in front of a new visit, never a good combo. "Quinnie, would it be okay with you if I were to prepare lunch for Rachel and you took it for her?"

Several actions occurred; the blonde teen smiled while her brunette counterpart exhaled loudly in shock and had no idea what to do. The young pale girl went around the counter she had been leaning on to hug her mother; it was a sweet idea, and she could learn to enjoy the company of her new, tentative friend, while the Jew was apparently, rooted to the stool she was sitting on.

"I would love to mom," she said, pecking the woman's cheek. "Also, I know Hiram is your personal trainer, but how exactly do you know Rachel's other dad?"

"I actually went to school with him, even the same college," she said with a light tease, "your dad's best friend back then had been Hiram; for all he did, I'm sure he's hating having been the reason for them to meet. He still can conciliate the fact that it was also the reason why we met.

"Now then my dears, off you go," the woman stated, turning to usher the girls out the doors, "homework, then you can do as you like."

"Wait, Mrs. Fabray —"

"Call me Judy," that was a first, and quite surprising for the young blonde to hear.

"Judy," the word was said with a hint of reluctance, yet it was clearly savoring the sound of it rolling of her tongue, "thank you. I — just, thanks for doing this, for all future lunches and . . . just thanks."

"It's quite alright Rachel," the woman placed a lock of brown hair behind the tanned ear in a gentle action, "think nothing of it."

"Okay," it felt foreign, the touch, but the gentleness of it made her smile at the caress; Quinn didn't think much of it, her mother was usually that way with Brittany, would be with Santana if the Latina would allow such a display too.

"Come on Berry," the young blonde requested; it was still weird to watch her mother do that with someone who wasn't blonde, "you have finished your work, I still want to get mine over with."

"That's a lovely sweater dear," the woman called after them; it was an argyle sweater with a cartoonish owl with one eye slightly bigger than the other, "Quinnie I trust you to be a good host."

"Want some water?"

"Umm. . . ."

"We've vitamin water too," she supplied, finding it adorable how flustered the tanned girl got, "I'll get us some."

"Do you have, by any chance, Black Water?" She had read about the mineral-rich water and was curious about it.

"Give her one of your dad's," the older woman supplied, smiling to herself at the way the brunette went about everything, "he won't notice one missing."

"Count your blessings," Quinn said, teasing her mother, "I'm taking one for myself then."

"He'll notice two," Judy countered seriously.

"Then we can tell him you drank it," she said as she gave her mother a peck in the cheek. "We're off mom."

"Thanks, Judy," she smiled warmly again, "for everything."

The blonde took the tanned arm and pulled, frowning a bit. It would seem that every moment with the brunette was time for all the corny things in the world to concentrate in the room with her. It would normally made her gag, unless Britt was involved, and even then she just found it amusing. This new feeling, this _adorable_ sensation that she was attaching to the Jew, it was new and alien. But definitely adoring.

Rachel found herself busy exploring the room. Like much of the house, it looked as though it were ready to be exhibited, whether by real estate agents, or in a museum; it could certainly go either way. White walls, all furniture made out of wood, light wood, with floral patterns in the four-posters bed, including the flimsy, delicate white curtains. Taking that into account, she began noticing the frame was painted gold, very much the same for all the windows in the room. All but a single, unique window on the inclined roof, allowing for a beautiful angle from which to watch the stars.

"This looks like a princess' room from all those Disney movies." She stated with finality. "Down to the delicate curtains that hide the sleeping figure, to the window from which to let the light of the moon flow in, as if to present the charming knight in shinning armor, just exactly _where_ the sleeping beauty is. As if the bed wasn't indication enough."

The last statement was given with a light laugh, but at the lack of response from the clearly-involved blonde; the girl was dwelling right into the belly of the monster best known as homework, the brunette bit her lower lip, mentally chastising herself. She shouldn't distract the clearly diligent blonde with just some random comments. It was about to become uncomfortable, she could tell. Ugh, she was going to ruin it and it hadn't even begone! Before her thoughts could get even more out of hand, the one she was having a melt down over finally spoke.

"Yeah, it should be clear where _exactly_ she lies," the remarked made the stranger sigh softly in mild relief, "but then again, you're not taking into account that said knight is probably a guy, meaning, they _need_ all the help they can get."

"Really?" It was a surprising statement, but at least the pale girl was chuckling as she continued diligently working on those math problems. "Then maybe Noah is a rare case, _as long as_ he isn't being distracted by a woman's derrière."

"Are you certain he wouldn't confuse a boy's?" The conversation was taking an interesting turn, and she decided her attention was needed there and not elsewhere for the moment.

"Hundred percent," the statement was done with so much conviction, the blonde's interest piqued; she pointed to her vanity chair for the Jew to take a seat, which she gladly did. "I did a test on him at the mall, and you can guess how mad he got when he realized this."

"He took his time," because he couldn't have realized it right away, "right?"

"About an hour and half," she stated and they laughed a bit, "but he told me with certainty, who was male and who was female.

"He literally scoffed when I pointed one out, saying that was a dude," she giggled at the memory, "imagine my surprise to know he was actually right."

"Wow, he's good," the other mused, teasing smile on her face, "I thought he would bang anything with a pair of good legs."

"So did I . . ." the brunette confessed softly, "but no, he's definitely straight."

Things turned amenable and a bit tuned down, talking about teachers and faculty workers. Why the new girl thought it was a good idea to know from the janitors, to the cafeteria lady, was beyond Quinn, but she commented on the librarian, who wasn't such a witch as the last one. It was low keyed enough for the blonde to be able to focus on her work and the conversation. They paused at another, enjoyable silence, in which Quinn finished and just turned, watching as the girl stared at herself in the mirror.

It made her realize, that while she had her own sister, this girl had had no one, no one to brush her hair, paint her nails or have pillow fights with. The pillow fights she must have been in, were, in all likelihood, awful and probably corrupted from the good, sane fun they were. Now, her thoughts went beyond the girl not having had siblings, true siblings, to enjoy her nights with and to the realization that she had never had _real_ parents. Meaning, birthday parties, pool parties; did she know her own birthday date?

"Hey Rach," she spoke softly as she walked to stand right behind the girl, her desk chair right besides her, "do you want me to brush your hair?"

Those rich, earth-toned eyes immediately zeroed in her own; it was obvious that the girl in front of the mirror was afraid of agreeing, but there was also a feeling that she wanted nothing more than for that to happen. Instead of waiting for a word or action, the blonde took her brush and began. The lush, dark brown locks were only a bit tangled, and she worked from the tips all her way to the roots softly, disentangling the mess. Soon, the brush ran through the hair like a knife through butter, and unable to resist temptation, pale fingers took the brush's place. It felt as silky as it looked, and smelled of green apples. Without realizing, she was massaging the scalp gently.

"That feels . . . wonderful Quinn," the brunette admitted, sighing in pleasure as she inclined her head a bit, eyes closed, "how did you learn to do that?"

"Fran used to do it to me when we were younger," she confessed, biting her lower lip when the other girl moaned softly.

"Girls?" But it felt so natural, that they didn't bother to change even their facial expressions; the young Christian had a soft smile while the tanned girl had a look of utter and blissful peace, the older woman could only smile, even if she felt a bit disturbed by it all. "Oh Quinnie, are you going to braid her hair?"

"The style Frannie used on me," the blonde in question asked, "or the one I used on her?"

"It's okay, I like my hair lose," Rachel said, finally opening her eyes, and had to rub them, looking sleepy; both blondes' laughed at the action. "Is it dinner time already?"

"Yes, so come along girls," the woman stated with a smile. She was loving the innocence the girl portrayed. "Quinnie, don't let me forget to ask your father when the plumber is coming."

Dinner was nice; the food was amazing and Rachel told them stories of her instances at other homes, but only the nice parts. Like learning how to bake, how to give a darn good massage, how in one home, they had a garage business, and the kids could play with the cars. For some reason, the ones they had worked on usually needed a few tweaks afterwards and they were street-racing ready.

"Does Puck knows that?"

"The boy who is always getting in trouble?!" She had no idea the brunette knew the boy, then again they were both Jews, so it couldn't be that surprising.

"The same, and he does," she gave them a bright smile, "although since I don't have my 'Crew', as we called ourselves, there wasn't much I could do on my own."

"He still roped you into a few races I believe." The grim statement earned puzzlement from the older blonde.

"He didn't have to, I went willingly," she replied with a shrug, and at the incredulous stares, she shifted a bit, "remember the Sunday your sis talked to me for the first time?"

Both women nodded, even if she was clearly speaking to the youngest, "well, while I was at the hospital getting checked on the Saturday before, Noah went off and found all the kids who had picked at me at the foster house."

"So, he stole a car and drove off," Quinn assumed, and a gasp was heard as the tanned child nodded her head.

"Ever since, I know I can trust him," another shrug, but she still had on a bright smile, chocolate orbs shinning with joy and tender love, like the one one holds towards a sibling, albeit stronger since no such bond existed before, "so I rather be there with him, in case he gets in trouble; I have to be certain he's okay, just as much as he has to be certain that so am I."

"Sound deep and complicated," Judy stated, not capable of comprehending the depth of the bond, but her daughter did; to a certain degree, it was what she had with the Latina, without the camaraderie of course.

"It is." Dinner was followed by dessert. "Wow, Pierce's Gelateria ice cream?"

"The man is Dutch," Judy said lightly, then winked at their visitor, "the woman Italian."

That was a surprise, then again, their ice creams were the best, and not many knew they were completely vegan and without animal milk. How they couldn't imagine such a treat, Rachel didn't care, she took relish in her sweet, listening to the other two women speak about their day, which may not have been the most interesting, considering she had shared every class with Quinn, and it was obvious that Judy was an original, Lima Housewife. It didn't have to be interesting, Rachel still took joy in watching their mannerisms and speech patterns. She noticed there was a line neither crossed, but she had no idea what or where it was.

"So, how was your day, Rachel?" Judy asked cordially as she picked the plates to be washed later.

"Well, it was actually just like Quinn's," she mentioned with nonchalance as the younger blonde just grinned, "we shared all our classes for some strange reason; I was the girl Brittany sat with during math, and while they were cheerleading, I was home doing my homework."

"Oh, that reminds me, how is that adorable boy of yours?" The teens blinked; had it been a jab, or was it an honest mistake? "I love it when Hiram brings him over. He's so well-mannered and actually enjoys joining in, it makes the sessions so much fun."

It was an honest mistake then; the woman clearly hadn't meant to make it sound as though Leon was really Rachel's child.

"He brought him over when he came to pick Rachel up," Quinn was the first to recover, seeing as it was stunning that the woman hadn't meant any harm with the comment. "He looks as handsome as he did last Sunday, not taking into account he was dressed casually and not in his Sunday best."

"He often seeks my attention though," the brunette added as they moved to the kitchen, just to see the older blonde was staring at the pile of dishes to be done and the empty dishwasher (not the mechanical type) with a critical eye.

"It's natural dear," she said absentmindedly, still eying the dishes and the place were they're meant to be washed, "children often yearn for their mother, specially since he has two fathers."

An awkward silence ensured, not that Judy realized this.

"Uh, mom . . ." the Christian began, trying to make it through the silence, "Rachel isn't Leon's birth mother."

"Oh silly," her mother laughed a bit at the observation, "she's as much the boy's mother as Hiram and LeRoy are their fathers; such roles may be dictated by blood, but there's the reason for the whole, nature vs. nurture debacle.

"She has been with the boy since his birth," she turned to the brunette, who nodded in confirmation, "the only constant figure who really looked after him, without doubt he sees her as such, even if he never calls her mother."

"He does, actually," the girl confessed softly, earning interested looks and she blushed under their scrutiny, "_Imah_ means mother in Hebrew. _How_ he know that, it's anyone's guess."

"Huh, guess that explains the unusual nickname," the woman remarked offhandedly before huffing and throwing her arms up, "oh I give up! I won't be able to wash them with glares, and the plumber has to fix it!"

"I could do it," once again, the petite female was looked at, this time as though she had grown a second head and it was Santana's; she began moving towards the sink. "I — one of the men who took care of me, a decent fellow, if he just didn't have such a horrible taste in women, was a plumber, and since they got me in the middle of the school year, they couldn't pay for my tuition at the new one, so he took me to work with him.

"He wouldn't leave me alone, I was always in the same room with him," once again, a decent fellow, "but since I would get bored, he taught me things. He was one of the few who were truly patient with me, answering all my questions, as long as I asked them one at a time. He didn't like it when I asked one after the other.

"He also taught me an important lesson," they were now attentive, as the brunette took a wrench from the woman and began tapping softly the pipes beneath the sink, listening to those with care, "two actually: my ears are powerful tools, and that sometimes, an answer to one question can answer other questions that I had, while making other, different questions, pop up.

"Answers can guide to a much more fulfilling solution than questions alone," she amended, keeping quiet as she heard the thinking sounds being made. "Ah, this one needs to be tighten and this one, loosened, but just, a, bit.

"There!" She cried happily and with one beaming smile, came from beneath the sink, turning the tap, her eyes becoming bright. "Now, it isn't spluttering water all around."

"Just how many of these skills do you have?" Judy asked with a gleeful squeal; she loved cleaning things up, just because it gave her purpose and she did something with her time and hands. The girl shrugged and she laughed a bit. "I can teach you to knit, stitch, and basically be a wife and mother if you like."

"I love activities that involve my body," the girl replied, a hungry and starving look on her eyes; somethings, she couldn't detach herself enough from, like trying to learn as many things as she could to please the authority figure of the house, though she had learned to enjoy them, "I would very much love to learn things with my hands."

"Maybe we can teach you to cook too," Quinn added with a gentle smile, "you have baking skills —"

"Just cookies," she confessed, making the blondes laugh.

"Okay, so pastries and baking and cooking," the younger blonde continued, her smile lighting up a bit more, "more activities to do."

"You can do cooking with Maribel," Judy stated immediately and almost curtly. "Heavens know I got no patience with cooking; baking, yes, the ingredients may be used for fun, but not cooking, oh no!

"Now, off with you two," she pulled her rubber gloves on firmly, "I'm eager to get this mess all cleaned up. Honey, don't forget we have to go and get you on your pledge dress and see how it fits before the tailor can finish stitching it up."

"Yes mom," the youngster replied in a drawl, and the brunette giggled, finding it to be the most _normal_ interaction they had had. "What?"

"Can I see other places in the house?" The request took her by surprised, but she only smiled, signaling the question was okay.

"How about I show you Frannie's room?" The blonde began guiding her towards the stairs and their new destination.

"Won't she get angry?"

"I'm not sure anyone could ever get truly mad at you," her companion replied easily, and after a few awkward second, she continued, "and besides, she likes you. Wait until I tell her you're finally going to school and that you managed your goal. She'll be very happy and, don't know why, very proud."

Rachel chuckled lightly at the memory, "I wasn't understanding something that was key to what my tutor was explaining; I wanted to giving it all up and just run away with Leon. She convinced to simply look at things differently, but to never give up.

"Would you — would you mind giving her my phone," she showed her smartphone weakly, as though hesitant. "I would love to have yours."

"Yeah . . . I — I'll give you hers and give her yours," the simple request was dazzling, specially the way it was made. Had she used her sister as an excuse to her number? "We're here."

She motioned to a door as she passed her own smartphone and took the brunette's. As promised, she gave her not only her own, but her sister's number. While she hadn't shared as they had during Sundays, she knew her sister and her new friend had made an amicable compromise with each other. They knew each other, knew of each other, had learned from the other and exchanged far more than words, but never became _friends_. Why, Quinn had no clue, except that maybe they were too distant in age or something; heavens knew it was one of the factors that had her and her sister in such a distant fashion. Of course, if anyone could crack her sister open like a shell, that would be Rachel, be that as it may.

As soon as they received their own phones, it was as if a shift had been made, small but palpable. The blonde opened the door, suddenly self conscious of the fact that she was going _into_ a room with the Jew. She was in for a surprise; the tanned teen gasped and squealed as she ran to the bed, seizing a lamb, plush toy.

"Mary Lambert!" The pale girl gaped at the brunette. "I hope you're keeping Quinn's secrets."

The tease flustered the owner of the toy, who blushed at the sight of her sleeping buddy being hugged and smelled. The little lamb was actually five foot five and completely cuddly, with just enough filling to be curled on. It was how she spent her nights, leaving it in her sister's room for it to absorb the feel of it.

"Wait, why does she smell like Fran?"

"First, you must tell me how you know her name."

"I gave it to her," the statement was done as though it were obvious, "Britt wanted to search for a birthday gift for you, and she asked me to tag along as she was unsure of what to buy. All she knew is that it had to be a plushie, so we debated between sheep and lambs and ducks and . . . bunnies, strangely enough, but I insisted on the first two.

"One, Bree was the one who likes ducks and two, you're Christian," she began explaining with a light smile, burying her face and closing her eyes as she lost herself in the sensation, "and when I saw this beauty, I ran to her and called her Mary Lambert, seeing as her latest hit had been airing, _Secrets_, and it felt appropriate."

"Mary, mother of Jesus, and lambs, of course," she sighed; it made total sense.

"She loved it."

"So you're the mysterious stranger who helped her pick it out."

"Yes. So why does she smell like Fran?"

"How do you know what _she_ smells like?"

"Well, Victoria's _Purple BlueBerry Sensation_ is a pretty unique sent." The Jew was right. "Okay, so why does she smell like your sis?"

"Because I leave her here among her things, just for that purpose," the blonde looked nervous, "I . . . am not always capable of sleeping, I've always needed her to fully rest, and without her, well . . . ."

"Mary's Lamb is the only one left." She approached the blonde, passing the stuffed animal with a smile that made her friend blush; she couldn't help but think it was adorable, though she did wonder why the blonde wouldn't be able to sleep well as she got older, "don't worry, your secret's safe with me."

Quinn took the offered plushie and held it close, finally relaxing a bit, "it's hard not to react like my best friend and try to extract a promise through force, but I want to trust you, I want to know just why Puck would treat you as he does."

"Thanks," a tan hand gently brushed a blonde, stray lock from the cheek, the touch so gentle it conveyed nothing but a flitting flutter of her heart, "that means a lot, I mean it."

"Rachel, do you want a ride home?" Judy asked from besides the stairs.

"Yeah —"

"Is it okay if I take her?" They left the room, closing the door.

"It's rather late honey," her mother replied, "come then, we'll both take her."

"Good, that way neither of you will travel alone," the brunette stated, watching the blonde place her lamb on her bed, clearly going to get ready for bed after dropping her off. "Thank you both for such a lovely evening, I had a wonderful night."

"I'm glad dear," the older blonde smiled, giving her a one-armed hug. "Besides, you helped fix the pipe, it's the least we could do."

* * *

MI's Note: Since I know nothing about plumbing, so there might be a few mistakes; feel free to correct me. Also, as I began writing, I figured a nice way to help keep Rachel healthy, and rope Quinn into it, xD The plushie incident was just inspired by the song, sorry if it enters in conflict with the timeline, I'm just taking things as though it's currently happening.


	6. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer_: this is a work of fiction using characters owned by Ryan Murphy and Fox

MI's Note: I got no idea whether it does or does not work but, this is the way I pictures classes to be like

* * *

**Lions' Den**

Chapter 4

Tuesday, a set of different classes, as was Wednesday, and the likelihood of them sharing _all_ of their classes, with probability dictating the odds were against this fact, turned out to be false predictions. They did share all their classes, and while the only one that they shared alone with Britt was math and she took Rachel as her partner, truth was in that class, there were no partners. Spanish projects meant Santana and Brittany worked together, and now that there was an even number of students, Quinn couldn't work with them or alone, as she usually did in her remaining classes.

Which meant they partnered up in science for the first project the insane woman thought would be cool for the first week of school. The Jew went over the list of teachers she had made during lunch: Spanish was a joke, english was fun, math was serious and science, science was spooky, but that was the extent of the list. So no, this teacher wasn't joking, the one who often did was the english one. The rest were quirky, but rather easy and therefore, normal, to not elicit any other kind of information, such as history.

"Is this standard during the first day?" Rachel asked softly, not risking a stage whisper. The protests that rose from the rest of the students as the news finally sank in was surprising. "Wait, they really didn't have any idea what she meant?"

"They probably thought it was a _joke_," the blonde sated with conviction, rolling her eyes at her classmates' antics and overall slowness; her current table companion simply looked around, puzzled, "I guess they answered your question."

"And in quite a detailed fashion, yes," she nodded and the other girl smirked.

"Since I'm feeling good and optimistic," the woman began, making the protests be replaced by groans, "I'll allow you to chose your partners. All of you who decide to remain with their current table buddy will receive a bonus of five points at the end of the _year_.

"I repeat," since most of the kids began talking among themselves as to what their teacher had meant with it, "if you end up having 55.8 as your final grade, it'll turn to 60.8 which would be rounded up to 61% meaning, you'll pass my class and won't have to see it next year. I'll _still_ be seeing you next year though."

"Is our Mad Scientist serious?!" The brunette looked aghast. "Does she really expect most to fail?" And she didn't mean the part of seeing them next year; she knew the woman also taught the junior high science course.

"That's right new kid," a dyed-blonde cheerio stated, coming to stand in front of their table and not allowing her captain to speak, "now if you'll move it, I'll give my captain her best shot at not needing those extra five points."

They stared at her in silence for a couple of seconds before they turned to face each other.

"For some reason, I cannot even manage to muster some indignation at the statement." The Jew said with finality.

"Excuse me?!"

"Well, it seems like she got yours," the real blonde quipped, laughing while their teacher approached them, "am I right to believe we'll be able to get the 150 you always plan for a group to manage?"

"Of course dear," the woman said with a kind smile and Quinn realized, her friend was right; long white lab coat, long red hair that always looked messy (Puck called it sex hair, such a testosterone-filled individual) with glasses that managed to bring our the emerald in her eyes and were always, somehow, askew on her face. "Will you be willing to try to aim for 115 after achieving the 112 of last year?"

The fake blonde gave the brunette a triumphant look; it was mixed with contempt.

"Nah, I actually don't think we'll manage to get that far," the aghast look made the Jew hide a grin behind her hand. "I'd rather aim for that 150 this year."

The woman nodded, turned to look at the cheerio who stood there, gaping, and guiding her back to her table companion, who had found a partner already and she was left with the only boy without partner, Jacob Ben Israel.

"Seriously?!" The boy squeaked. "My chance to finally talk to the one hot Jew that I actually have a chance with, is with Quinn Fabray?!"

"You're right, she looks like a Mad Scientist," the blonde commented, ignoring the rest; she frowned when she noticed the look of shock and (was it) fear in the girl's eyes. "Rachel, are you okay?"

"Is the science average in this school to be around forty, _really_?" She looked as though she dreaded the numbers.

"It's actually around thirty, with the remaining thirty to be from the points she gives," the Christian supplied, laughing as the petite girl seemed to faint. "You forget this is a public school Rach, so most are jocks."

"I might be sick," she did look a bit green, and her new partner chuckled.

"You'll be fine."

"All right kids, settle down!" The redhead requested with a firm tone, placing her clipboard and class list down. "Take into account these will be your partners for the rest of the _year_."

Groans and complaints were followed by more changing of partners. The only ones who watched, amused, were the two girls.

"And you're still as adamant as ever," the woman commented as she approached Quinn.

"Well, considering your point systems I'm not going to change it just for," she replied with a well known smile along with her signature craned brow.

"Clever as ever," the older woman teased. "So, you must be a big deal to partner up with our one and only, Quinn Fabray."

"I'm not sure," the brunette replied honestly, "all I know, is she'll be able to help me out, and she's the only one I know in this room."

"Huh." The woman fixed her glasses, yet they remained a bit to the left. "Well, I'm sure you'll make a good team.

"Okay class, let's start. The experiment is designed to take thirty minutes, you have the remaining hour to finish it," the redhead stated, going back to the head of the classroom. "Now, the instructions are on the board. Don't forget, you have an hour!"

She even set a timer, it was the apple that was on her desk; the brunette had thought it was real. The student turned to look at the pale one besides her, seemingly at a loss. Turned out, she had never done an experiment before, but Quinn had fun teaching her. The Christian was patient with her, explaining the process in detail and while she had no real idea of what they were doing in a hands on approach, she did have valid points as to what the theory of it all was about. They had taken the entire hour, but they had gotten completely accurate and precise answers, much to the teachers delight.

Needless to say, they got full points, plus the bonus on their work. The woman looked impressed and congratulated them on their work. The cheerio glared at them and requested from the teacher to tell them how to solve correctly; thinking about it, the mad scientist allowed them to explain fully how they arrived to their conclusion. When they fully showed the process, she was even more impressed by their work and use of their brains to such capacity, that by the end she sang them praises and gave them three more points.

Another class before lunch, english, in which the teacher gave out a test for him to fully understand the scope of their knowledge, comparing what they knew last year and see how much they had forgotten over the summer. Some jocks cheered at that, giving high fives to each other, or fist pumping, and another big guy flexed his arms. The girls, sitting next to each other, looked at one another and rolled their eyes at the antics. After the evaluation paper, they were allowed to share stories or look for books; they could even chose one to read for extra points.

"We'll probably get a book as must read," Quinn commented as she approached the brunette, noticing as she went over the bookcase. "Have you read _The Great Gatsby_? Or _Of Mice and Men_?"

"And _Wuthering Heights_," Holly has given her a list of, what she dubbed as _traditional_ books, and she had done her best to read them all, if only to keep up. "_Of Mice and Men_, not so fun, but Steinbeck's writing style — _East of Eden_ is . . . ."

"Breath taking?" She inquired with a pause.

"Yes . . . ." The brunette exhaled, remembering the thrilling words and how the world was expressed. It's darkness and raw understanding of the world.

"What about _Alice in Wonderland_?" The pale girl noticed the book lying among the rest, looking rather thin and totally out of place.

"Dad and daddy read it to Leon and I," she confessed with a warm smile. "I joined when they went to read it to him and ever since, I'm not allowed to join, just listen."

"So, even with your own rooms," there was a knowing glint in those hazel-green eyes, "you're still sleeping together huh?"

"It's funny," the shorter girl confessed, "he actually wets it when he sleeps alone."

"Well, this is my favorite book," the blonde chuckled, making their sides connect briefly before passing the book she had noticed before.

Rachel gasped softly, awed by the gesture. It was _Alice Adventure's Under Ground_, and she gladly chose it to be her book project. The teacher told her she would have to describe the differences between the versions and to justify which version she liked best and why. Depending on how well written it is and the reasons stated, she would receive her grade. She beamed at the prospect, just glad to be able to read and work on it.

"Thank you Quinn, thank you!" She made a bold move and hugged the pale teen briefly before releasing her.

Since the blonde said nothing, no one else dared say anything. One watching, steaming, dyed-blonde, seething cheerio, wasn't pleased and extremely jealous. Santana was less bitchy and partially protective of the brunette, and it made matters even more confusing, for the squad, to see someone outside of them actually join the UnHoly Trinity, after just one day of school, and they felt affronted. The new girl was upsetting the system _far_ too much, and they really, didn't like it. They had to restore order and make a statement, something to make it clear just _where_ the brunette was. She had to be **_crushed_**.

There was one girl in particular, the one who had been working her way into the Trinity, certain dyed blonde who was just enough of a bootlicker to please Santana, good and kind enough to Britt to get on her and the Latina's side of the triangle, and she had been working on Quinn to get her to finally allow her to sit at the high table. It wasn't where just anyone could sit, only jocks were allowed, and only when the three agreed. Puck had never been able if it wasn't because of the black haired female, and even then it was after they had eaten. Finn could, unless any of them were in that time of the month.

Rachel couldn't be allowed to upset the system any further.

So, as they went their separate ways to meet again at the cafeteria, for lunch. At that moment, the slowly rising cheerleader executed a well thought plan. Focused mainly on a massive scale ridicule they couldn't rope the boys into it. No matter how upset they were, they could easily see a horrible future in store should they piss both, Santana and Puck, in one go. And that was _not_ counting on angering the blonde.

"We're ready," a pink haired cheerio stated, bringing the dyed blonde one of the extra big slushy cup.

"Hey, short man-girl," obviously she wasn't creative, but had heard plenty of nicknames the Latina came up with, though only one from part of her captain, so in an effort of honoring both, came up with it, "we realized you haven't been properly welcomed, and that you haven't been baptized yet."

"Seeing as you have no real parents," the other added.

"So we thought we'd help." They rose their cups.

It was then that Rachel realized they were talking to her. It felt foreign, not used to the threat or monologue before the attack. Sure, it showed manners, but it also made it _so_ easy to evade. As they rounded her, the brunette had already come up with a good escape route. She had also covered the vents of her locker with duck tape; Noah had advised her on keeping a roll, and it made the girl feel wiser for having listened.

"What's going on —?!" Santana began to demand, just to be hushed by Puck.

"Just wait," he told them, because Britt was obviously there; she had a hand over her mouth, eyes wide.

"S, B?" Quinn appeared just then, and froze on her spot.

Why wasn't Puck or Brittany doing something? Sure, they would probably end up in the crossfire, but it was clear that something else was up. Besides, the girls had already fired. Rachel ducked low as she sprinted forward. The Latina took up the task of noticing the instigator, and throwing her into the mess. By then, the short girl had already escaped the ring; her height and quick feet helped her manage the gap made by the tumbling forward of the dyed-blonde _and_ pink dyed teens. _Everyone_, including the food of the food chain, saw.

Quinn stepped forward as everyone but her squad laughed at the two misfortunate teens, crossing her arms even with her hands busy carrying two lunches. "I hope you've another school of choice," her voice was as hard as steel, as was her piercing glare, "because if you haven't transferred by the end of the week, I'll make a pariah of you just yet."

Sure, the girl was mad with how things ended up, but her pale face didn't look well with her contorted rage. It definitely looked best in red. Head down, she cowered towards the cheerio dressing room for her spare uniform and to get a shower.

"Be sure to take plenty of mental images," Santana shouted after the retreating form, "it'll be the last time you're there.

"Good job evading the onslaught Berry."

"See, I told you it was worth it."

"Noah!"

"I knew you would escape babe." He easily answered with a smile and his Jew sighed.

"Come, we're wasting valuable time here," the HBIC growled, not at all liking the dawdling. "Besides, I brought something extra and I want it off my hands."

"Here, I'll carry both," Rachel stated with a bright smile, taking the lunches that the blonde was carrying. "It's the least I can do after all."

"Yeah," Quinn looked away, frown still intact and arms still crossed, even when the petite tanned teen took the packed food from her hands; she was blushing a bit. "You better . . . . Thanks."

They went along, not really caring, at least not until they were seated and the second in command busted out laughing, cackling like a witch from a Disney movie. It turned out to be so much that the Dutch had to take her in a warm embrace as the laughter grew, making her unable to sit straight. Just as they began to get themselves comfortable, two boy gravitated near enough to catch their attention. Mike and Matt, best friends and part of the football team, were the ones nearby. They didn't place their trays down, seemed to be passing by in greeting.

"Hey Rachel," Mike said, clearly in a dare as his dark eyes were focused on the Jew.

"Michael?" She asked, clearly surprised; the other girls were surprised as well, seeing as Mike and Quinn made sure not to share any class, else their internal geeks were unleashed and the whole class would just watch, amused, as they tried to outsmart each other. "Michael Robert Chang?"

"Wow, first _and_ second name," Santana commented, seeing as no one knew that, and from the looks of Matt, not even he did, "_that's_ a first."

The boy grinned as the brunette stared for one silent, excruciating beat, before she stood, used her chair as leverage to stand on the table and threw herself at the boy. As though ready for this, the boy placed his tray on the table and opened his arms at the right time to receive the now-crying and laughing girl. Two twirls later, in which even Puck stared once he arrived, and the Asian boy placed her down. She still held him tightly, finally letting go with a beaming smile.

"Come, join us," she gestured the table, turning to the girls, "it's okay, right?"

"_I_ want to know what that was all about," the sitting tan girl stated, with nods from the other two.

"I'm intrigued as well," Quinn said, with a light frown, yet gestured for them to sit. "Rachel?"

The brunette in question smiled and turned to sit in her seat, between the Cherrio captain and the football wide receiver, Brittany moved a bit, pushing the Latina to sit in front of the male badass. Quinn then passed the brunette a container; it was a veggie lasagna that could be eaten cold, began placing the salmon her mom had cooked on to three plates that the Mohawk-ed boy had brought.

"My daddy gave me a final test, to participate in the local karate tournament," she began, beaming at the smell. "There was one new category though, working with someone else."

"My mom runs the dojo, when my dad is attending an emergency at the hospital," the boy began himself, he had an entire pizza on his tray and his best friend slipped him money with a grumble, "as you all know, I have a competitive streak, when my father demands it, so I don't work well with others."

"And yet, his dad signed him on the new segment without a partner."

"Seeing this, she signed up for some reason." He teased her, smiling at the girls.

"We ended up partners," they said at the same time, taking bites out of their respective foods.

"Wait, just like that?!" Noah asked, incredulous.

"Just like that." Once again, they said at the same time; after swallowing, of course.

"We just connected in a funny way," she supplied, smiling, "he was reluctant, but since I was just along for the fun of it, he relaxed a bit."

"At first I thought she was leaving me to do all the dirty work," he reminiscence, looking at the ceiling, "then, I realized she was learning how I moved as to not get in my way, and I slowly began relaying on her."

"Until, without him even realizing, I was coordinating along with his moves," she grinned, fist bumping with Noah as he offered, understanding the bond that was formed and proud of his Jew Babe. "When he realized, it was already to late."

"She had my rhythm and speed well matched," he said with an equal grin, "by then I gave up trying to take on the two opponents on my own and we worked it out.

"The following matches were finished much more swiftly and practically," Mike stated at the end, much to the shock of everyone, just to continue eating without missing a beat.

At that moment something really bizarre happened; both karate practitioners were eating at the same rhythm, chewing at the same rate, taking pauses at the same moment even, much to the strangeness of it all. Though only Quinn and Santana took notice, Brittany soon fell into the same pattern probably without realizing, while Puck remained oblivious. The conversation became amenable, though no one tried to control it. Soon though, Finn came along and sat besides his girl, and there was a soft lull in the conversation then once again it began.

The golden boy opted for ignoring the spell, believing the mood had to shift because, well, he was now sitting there. The conversation resumed but about things he had no interest in: classes. Santana bitched about the teacher, Britt commented on how odd they, the teachers, were, Puck on the level of hotness, Mike on the level of teaching methods and the blonde and brunette simply on all of the above. Matt also added from time to time, commenting about the food (Santana joined in) and the gym facility and equipment. Finn was the only one without anything to add, seeing as he only ever had two interests, football, and video games.

He frowned when he remembered the way he had been blatantly ignored during math in favor for one ditzy blonde, how he had to withstand glee club, _tortuously_, simply on a bland attempt of getting to Rachel. And Mr. Schue hadn't even started on it, which only increased his frustration. Furthermore, they didn't share other classes but that one and the girl's attention was taken over by the two blondes and whenever the Latina decided to skip her own class and cut in with those two, and Rachel. Finn couldn't seem to get a break.

"So where are you two brains going now?" Santana asked, munching on some fish sticks she had brought for the Dutch, "you got free period right? Leaving school grounds for the hour or do you plan to go to the library?"

They shrugged, having no idea.

"Wait, you mean you guys are sharing all your classes?" They stared at the tall boy; hadn't he been listening? "Unbelievable! This is so unfair, man!"

"Well, Quinn can chose if she wants to stay or leave," green, with specks of hazel, orbs landed on the petite figure, so no one saw the hurt, "I'll just be happy, tagging along."

The blonde straightened her back, but otherwise did nothing else to alert the others, even if her eyes did widen in surprise.

"Yeah, I think I'd rather go to the library," she stated with nonchalance, shrugging and turning to look away, trying to control her blush and a managing it, "since it's free period, the lady won't mind a bit of music and the such."

When Finn arrived to his Spanish class, he asked the man when he was going to ask the new girl to join, that he had heard her sing and she was amazing. So it was a lie, sue him, he was going to get his way. Besides, if the girl was bad, they would have at least established a connection of sorts and he could seek her out otherwise. Claim partial deafness or whatever, he would quit anyway if that was the case.

* * *

"Wow, you were right," Rachel said, burying into the plush beanie she was sharing with the blonde; light music was being played on the library itself, nothing loud and the instrumental background gave a nice ambiance, "the library lady is really nice."

The woman had allowed them into the cutoff section for the preschoolers that had a nursery nearby. The public place didn't have the ability of having their own library, and the public one was a little too far for the toddlers to be able to walk there without complains. A group had just left even, with the two girls reading them one last story. They noted that they worked well together, working diligently on everything, even if they could divide tasks. Most of the times, they found the same results, but there were always small details that they took and those were never the same.

With the history their parents had, it was best to simply keep work at school, so they could already tell that would be neutral ground. In the library, the librarian nodded her head at them, closing the door to allow them, not so much the privacy as the music sounding only in the room. Rachel distracted herself with many versions of Alice's Wonderland while the other girl sketched. After a while, the brunette noticed how absorbed her tentative friend was, and decided to sneak behind and see. Quinn didn't notice.

"What are you doing?" She asked sweetly, startling the Christian, who dropped her notebook; they stared, one blushing and the other stunned, at what was in it. "Quinn?"

"It's nothing, just Monique. After her slushy attempt I plan on posting one of these on the girl's bathroom," it was a lie, but she would be struck by lightning before admitting the truth to even herself, "I want her to realize that what she did is unacceptable."

"Quinn, you can't —"

"Can't _what_, Berry?" It was the first time someone had the _guts_ to tell her she couldn't do something. "I rule this school, there is _nothing_ I can't do. That I can't get away with."

"I don't care if you have her run suicides till she commits it!" She cried, knowing that she would actually care. "But drawing pornographic sketches of her in the bathroom is too much Quinn, too much.

"Please, it attacks self esteem," her chocolate orbs shone brightly with unshed tears, "I've been on such positions before, and I know it _hurts_."

"Fine!" She snarled in frustration, snorting at her apparent weakness. "Fine. I won't do it, I promise."

The brunette only walked around and sank back into the beanie, picking up the dropped drawing utility and giving it back to its owner as she sank further into the beanie _and_ the Christian. The blonde blushed, forgetting the sketches and just to sink along with the girl.

"Didn't you say you wanted to do some homework?"

"I hope I haven't forgotten the ones given today," she replied, "yesterday I did yesterday's. So, have I forgotten one?"

"No," the reply was subdued, "you're right, you haven't forgotten."

In the warmth and amidst the instrumental background, they fell asleep. The librarian knew the blonde well enough, and liked her even more than the girl knew, ensured their privacy. She even sneaked in to drop a blanket over them both, finding them adorable. It was about time, from her perspective, that the blonde found someone to rely upon emotionally, not a girl with short temper or so goofy, good hearted kid. Before the bell was due to ring for their last class, they were woken.

"Quinn, honey," the woman was on familiar terms with the young girl, "the last period bell is about to ring."

"Okay," the blonde yawned, blinking sleep from her eyes. "Where's Rachel?"

"Rachel, little one," the woman was already shaking the Jew, "wake up."

"Mmmmmm?" An adorable yawn and rubbing of the eyes later, the woman began cooing at the girl.

"Awwwww, she's so cute," that finally got their attention, "now, you better hurry, the bell is about to ring."

They simply nodded and stood, just then, said bell rang.

"Honey," the brunette cast a quizzical look at the librarian and the student, "hope you don't let go of this one, at least for the cute factor."

Both girls blushed, making the woman grin.

"No need to be shy girls," the red became more pronounced. "Heavens know you need another friend and of course, someone ordinary just won't do.

"Off with the both of you, you'll be late," she began pushing them towards the door and the rest of the school, "take care girls, good day."

Rachel was surprised by it all.

"She's quite peculiar."

"She's quite a character," her friend countered, making the smaller teen smile.

"Ah, so that's why she reminds me of you," their teasing kept all the way to Political Science.

Why Rachel was in such a class, neither could guess.

* * *

MI's Note: so, I got no idea what other classes to include; art, wood working, what else? I mean there's history, science, math, english, physical ed, in this case Spanish, so what other classes do you see them taking? I don't think their arts program would extend beyond _art_, meaning I don't see a music class in the curriculum, so which other classes would you like to see them in?


	7. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer_: Glee is owned by FOX and Ryan Murphy; I stake ownership of this plot and hence, the development of it

MI's Note: sorry, it's longer even with out counting the last part at the end D:

Now, getting back on track with the series, and having Rachel interact with the glee club. They do need to go to Akron and watch Vocal Adrenaline, and we can't forget Mr. Schue's pseudo quitting to go work in accounting to due having a fake child; should he get that child with Terri after all, or is he better of with Emma?

Also, we get a chance to see how much Leon has changed, xB hope the changes aren't too drastic and within the realm of reality. It's been a long time since I've had contact with a kid around the age of two and a half, three. And: the last scene between Schue and his wife, cropped up on me. Completely unexpected!

This thing got erased, _again_. Sorry. I'll try to make sure it _doesn't_ happen, **again**. So angering.

* * *

**Lions' Den**

Chapter 5

Things seemed to be going great, although for some reason, people began thinking that what Quinn and Rachel had was some kind of rivalry going on. Between Jacob, Finn, and the dyed-blonde cheerio, things ranged between the possible and the impossible, from the alleged fact that Luke could be Quinn's child to the one that stated the brunette wanted to take the HBIC title and rule the world on her own. Far too far fetched if any of them cared enough to see.

"Rachel, I need to talk to you," Mr. Schuester was seriously getting on the brunette's nerves. Fortunately, certain Christian was near. "Quinn, do you mind?"

"I do." Her nonchalance made the tanned girl smile. "Now if you want to get this over with, Rach promised to carry lunch."

The curly haired man gripped. "Okay. Rachel, I want to know if you would like to join glee club."

"I don't want to join _any_ clubs just yet."

"Okay then, why don't you just join us for a field trip?" He requested. "This Saturday, Carmel High is performing a showcase down in Akron and we're going to check them out. No compromise, just looking with us and giving your opinion; Tina has told me you have a vast knowledge of vocal practice and music in general, and we would greatly value your input."

"So . . . what — she's like a consulting expert or something?" The blonde inquired with a frown.

"Sure, something like that," he agreed.

"Come Rach, give the man an answer," the HBIC teased, "we do have lunch and I don't like to dawdle."

"Okay, okay," the tanned teen replied with a light chuckle, "I'm giving you my answer: yes, I'll gladly lend you my knowledge."

Without waiting for anything else, she moved on. They were going to their lockers, then to the cafeteria, to pick up their freshly re-heated food. The cafeteria lady, a grouchy, skinny woman with permanent bad breath, was fond of Rachel. She had grown to like the staff of the school, and would often teach them new techniques for them to enjoy. It was surprising, for them to find themselves enjoying time spent at work.

Leaving the doors that no other student would find themselves crossing, and some began muttering how they would only do it for a dare. The first week of school was a day away from freedom, and they couldn't, _wouldn't_ get used to how the girls were. Each carrying a tray that held two plates, they were helped by the two Cheerios already there. They were followed by Mike and Matt. The dark skinned boy had grown on the girl with his humor and reflexes; she would buy the French fries just to have ammo to throw. Just to amuse her, he would often catch them with his mouth, and wasn't caught unawares up to the moment. Every time he munched one down, she would giggle, and while it was how they spent some of their time, they still had conversations.

Something nice that came out, was that Mike was willing to partner up with Britt during their science course; Matt had wood shop then.

"Hey Rachel," the Asian girl slowly approached their table, "Mr. Schue told me you're coming with us to watch Carmel High.

"The club wanted to know if you wanted to join us for an impromptu sing and dance this afternoon," she asked softly, and at the nod, she beamed. "Thanks Rach."

"Thank you for asking," she replied.

Finn, as always, was the last to join, only that this time, they didn't stop their conversation for him. It felt unsettling for him, not to be determined in some way, then just shrugged it all off. He didn't need their recognition, so whatever. When the conversation got into good competitive games, all his ideas were shot down. Why didn't the guys think FPS were any good, he couldn't tell. Halo and Black Ops were incredibly serious games, what was wrong with them?

"Nintendo is definitely the console for you girls," Puck remarked seriously. "Though Play's balance is also good."

"Crash, one that you'll totally like." Matt added.

"Crash Nitro and Mario Kart," Mike amended with a light laugh, "although Crash do have special contest between two players."

"That's just from the third installment!" The Jew boy began, clearly affronted.

"What about Spyro?" Britt asked, and the conversation did a twist.

"Those are all games for babies," Finn scoffed after listening.

"Noah, if you're still willing to lend me your 3DS," the brunette began, completely disregarding the boy's words without missing a beat, "I would like to show Leon the graphics from Legend of Zelda's games."

"Oh, Ocarina of Time looks so good on 3D!"

"Puck, that option isn't recommended for kids." The Asian boy stated.

"Yeah bro, it says 6 and older," Matt objected.

"Not to worry, Rach wouldn't do something so irresponsible," Quinn added.

"I wouldn't," Rachel stated firmly, and they all laughed.

Finn was left flustered, to say least. From that point on, whenever he opened his mouth, Santana said something that got him to shut it. Turned out that the Latina was the only one who had any kind of knowledge about games at all. Once lunch was done and they were going back to their lockers, his blonde girlfriend got him apart.

"Finn, if you have nothing positive to say, you better not say it," she hissed, and he was shocked by how it caught him off guard, "now, if you continue, you'll be banned from the table."

"What, and Puck, Mike and Matt can stay?!" He now truly felt affronted.

"_Yes_." She stated with finality, closing a random locker, it being Jacob's. "Now _deal_ with it."

With that last growl directed at him, she went to her locker, where certain brunette was waiting. They were headed to another class together. Glaring at Jewfro, the golden boy kicked another locker and went along his merry way.

"May it be known that Quinn clearly dislikes Rachel Berry being all over her man," the outcast stated into a recorder, although behind him, the male AV clubbers nodded.

* * *

The first thing Rachel did at the last bell, was call her fathers and explain the situation, feeling horrible for not being able to keep her promise to Leon. Her dad though, was _ecstatic_, and with one last forlorn glance at Quinn, she went her way.

"Hey, think about it this way," the blonde said, bumping their shoulders in an amicable way, the contact lasting longer and with almost no strength behind it, "now you have something to do while I'm at Cheerio practice. I'll give you a ride; my mom will give me permission to stay and see Leon at least."

That brightened the brunette enough, making her smile genuinely and brightly, with one such smile, she entered the classroom. Finn gave her a dopey one, but she simply ignored him. Their incompetent Spanish teacher welcomed her, coming in behind her and smiling at the her enthusiastic smile. He was, of course, stopped mid way by their resident divas, mainly Mercedes.

"Uh, Mr. Schue, we all here auditioned," she began, "what is _she_ doing here?"

"She's here to give us advice —"

"We don't even know how much she knows about musicals!?" Kurt gasped in indignation.

"Well, that is true —"

"If she isn't here for a solo, I'm okay," Mercedes stated, making the Jew blink.

"Um, not to ruin it but," Artie began with a raised hand, "I agree with Kurt."

"Rachel, how about a song?" The man asked gently, and Tina's enthusiasm was heard clearly.

"Fine, how about _Black And Gold_ by Sam Sparro?" Before her question was answered, the band began playing, and although she was in a little late for her due, she still did an amazing job. Thinking about her science partner and her possible friend, because unless it was stated, she couldn't call the blonde her friend, the lyrics seemed oddly appropriate. Her performance was impeccable. "There, is that good enough to satisfy you non-believers?'

"I'm in," Artie said without a problem.

"Well I'm not," Mercedes countered.

"This is glee," Kurt remarked, "how about a musical? _On My Own_ from the seminal Broadway classic Les Mis seems to be better suited for your vocal range."

"I doubt the last song covered that range," Rachel wasn't sure whether to feel affronted or just completely bewildered; didn't they want her help? "And sadly, I haven't been able to see Les Mis live, and just the movie last Sunday, but I'll give it my best shot."

She brought Kurt to tears, and though she didn't want to, Mercedes had to admit it was a fabulous rendition. Afterwards, they thought it was a joke, about just having watched the musical once, and it was almost a week ago. Her talent was recently being nurtured, but even she knew she had amazing, incredible ears and impeccable rhythm.

_You're the One that I Want_ from Grease. That was the second movie her fathers showed her, so not really sure what she had to do, she got in character and once she reached the golden boy, she dragged him into a dumb tug-o-war with which she felt really uncomfortable.

"Oh, hell to the no." Maybe Mercedes hadn't notice the discomfort, but the petite girl sighed in relief as she had to let go of the, much-too-big hand. "Look, I'm not down with this background singing nonsense. I'm Beyonce. I ain't no Kelly Rowland."

"Okay, look, Mercedes, it's just one song." The man begged.

"And it's the first time we've been kind of good." Kurt begrudgingly admitted.

"Okay, you're good, short stack. I'll give you that." Rachel gaped; was this the way to express gratitude or convey thanks? "But you better bring it. Let's run it again."

"All right, let's do it." The brunette was stunned. "From the top."

"Wait, I'm not joining the club!" She was clearly affronted. "I don't mind helping you guys out, but I'm not ready for a club yet!"

"Mr. Schue, you did ask her to help out only." Tina added.

"And that's the way she can help!" Artie remarked.

The conversation became a heated debate afterwards, and feeling as though it was of no concern to her, the brunette sank back down into one of the chairs.

"Rachel, what do you say?" The man asked hopefully.

"That helping you doesn't mean joining the club," she stated dryly, "when I start looking for clubs, you'll be on top of my list."

The finality of her words were punctuated by the opening of the door and certain Cheerios appeared. Without a word, the Jew stood and left with them.

* * *

Leon was showing his handsome self. The girls cooed at him, even Santana spared her bitch attitude in favor of cooing and being adorable to the boy. The Latina soon became a favorite person of the little boy. She would literally disobey what he couldn't do and allow him to do it. There wasn't much of that, and she would definitely keep him from dairy, but would spoil him. Playing with things he shouldn't play with, mainly crayons and walls, along with Britt, and generally acting sweet. It was probably because she didn't have younger siblings that she could decidedly spoil the boy rotten.

The day before, Thursday, when the men invited Brittany over, she brought her trio. What they found, was an special sight. Laying on the couch, on her belly, was the brunette, sleeping, with an arm thrown over the sofa, obviously exhausted. It was clear she had been playing with certain boy, and where was he? After looking closely and inspecting the room, they found him draped over the girl in very much the same fashion as she was. Rachel had been teased that afternoon long. Friday didn't bring the same sight though, much to the Christian's sadness; it would have made her day.

"So girls, want to watch a movie?" One of the men asked.

"No Santana, no horror," the eldest Berry child stopped the Latina, who frowned, until the reason was exposed and her facial expression visibly softened, considerably too, as her eyes fell on the boy, "we got a minor present."

"You won't consider something with blood, booger?" The raven-haired teen asked with a pout to which the boy giggled.

"Frogger!" The boy stated with conviction, making the taller and shorter of the quartet chuckle.

"Who wants to go _dig a little deeper_?" The blonde of the pair cooed.

"The Shadow Man is the scariest, most gruesome character Leon has ever met," the brunette supplied, and when neither of those two got the idea from their clues, she rolled her chocolate orbs at them with a light smile, "_the Princess and the Frog_ movie? Really Bree-Britt, they haven't seen it?"

"Santi isn't one for cartoons," she objected with a pout, "and Quinnie doesn't care either way, meaning Sanny gets her way."

"Well, if you guys want to spend quality time with this young man here," she began seriously, even frowning a bit at the Latina and Christian, "then you better get your kid movies in order.

"Santana, I'm sure you'll like the Shadow Man just enough," she added as an after thought as her fathers finished arranging the movie.

"Wait, we got no say in this?" The raven haired teen demanded.

"Think about it S," the Cheerio captain motioned to the boy who clapped at the movie being shown, "no matter what we want, he'll win."

"Hell to it," the grumpy girl stated with a frown and one, epic pout. "We're still having our monthly sleepover at my place next weekend; horror then."

She ended up enjoying the movie, much to her own chagrin. The men got them some pizza, special brand for both of their kids but, not for themselves. They decided to eat some takeout with wine, enjoying the food with the group. Rachel didn't see the awkwardness of being with her fathers, and after a while, with the way they contributed to the conversation left them all (but the two girls already used to) amicable, amenable, and they actually enjoyed the talk.

Brittany didn't feel out of place, her random comments being taken into account and making her feel as though they were contributing to the overall conversation, a nice feeling for a change that, even if she didn't fully notice or comprehend it, was a feeling she still felt distinctively. This, hence, made Santana give them credit, impressed with the way they handled the blonde, a way she had only ever seen the Dutch's parents do. Quinn was also happy about it, but she was enjoying the play she could have with Leon, who was happy sitting on Rachel's lap, who felt only one thing was missing.

"I miss Noah," she sighed mildly, a yawning kid on her arms, "wish he could have joined us."

The men had left for their room when the movie was done, and had left the girls to their own devices. Not so soon after, they had to leave though.

"I certainly don't miss his leers and sexist comments," the Latina remarked, ready to leave. "Bye Berry, miniQ, Q."

She smirked, frowning when she didn't get the rise out of her fellow tanned teen.

"Bye Bree," the boy received a kiss to the cheek, the one holding him got a hug, "bye Satan."

"What you're teaching him doesn't make your status any closer to friend," Rachel remarked, disregarding the gaping girl in favor for returning the embrace from her best friend. "Bye Bree-Britt, Santana."

"This isn't over Berry!" She shouted in reply, a nasty frown on her face as she was pulled to her car. "Night champ!"

The brunette chuckled at this, earning giggles from the boy. When he saw the remaining pale girl step out, he cried out, holding his arms out.

"Don' go please, Qui," it was the only particular sound he could make of her name, "please don'."

"I got to go tiger," she smiled at the fact that the boy only answered to her when she called him that; Santana and Puck liked calling him champ or champion, Rachel would sometimes call him so as well, and both her and Britt called him Lee, but only Quinn called him tiger and got an answer and away with it. "My parents want me home and I've got Cheerio practice early tomorrow."

"Come on tinok," the affectionate term was one that often escaped her when the blonde was with them, else it was an extremely private name she called him. "She has to go to bed, her own bed."

"Can't she slip with imah?" The girls shifted awkwardly as he took a tighter hold on the leaving girl's uniform. "Slee'oer?"

"A sleepover is done during the weekend," the reply was serious; how she could understand him, was a mystery, "you would have to be invited —"

"Santana already said it was horror marathon," the blonde remarked with a chuckle, "Lee can come when it's Bree's turn to host, her movie collection is much more suitable."

"Ah, I'm not sure I would be welcome," she bit her lower lip, rubbing the boy's side and he easily let go, whimpering on his imah's chest, getting ready to cry.

"Rachel, if you want Santana to officially invite you —"

"After my last comment —"

"She'll want revenge _during_ the sleepover," she brushed a lock of brown hair behind a tanned ear, "and B will be there to ensure she doesn't do something exceedingly mean.

"Come along tiger, you'll be welcome to the next one, I promise," she kissed the boy's temple, making him calm down considerably, "take care Rach, good night you two."

"Night Lucy Q," she whispered.

"You've been talking to Frannie," she accused, and at the smile, she return it, "it's okay, really, rest well."

Leon joined in the wave and stare, until at long last, the blonde's car seemingly disappeared from view. Tomorrow was going to be a hard time for the brunette, but she would manage, if only, with the words she had just received.

* * *

LeRoy was ecstatic. He was willing to change his Sunday, just as Hiram was changing his Saturday, but that didn't dampen his mood. He was currently gushing in the car, in the driver's seat as to not get him to misbehave in the ride by turning around to face his daughter. It also prevented him from going to the club director, and telling him just _how_ to get her on board with the club already, once they got there of course.

"Imah, I wanna play," the boy pouted, clearly upset with not having his most important person with him.

"Sorry baby boy," the fashionista winked at the child, "but she already promised today."

"Hey Lee, it's okay," she pecked his forehead, "I promise to make it up. I _promise_."

"Oh we better get used to this," the man gushed, then glared at the taller man who chuckled. "I mean it."

"Is this your way of not pressuring our girl?" Hiram teased. His husband blushed, flustered. "Yes, so give it a rest LeRoy, even if she _doesn't_ join, you won't love her any less."

"You mean _we_ won't —"

"No dad, he means you," finally Rachel added, just as they arrived; she had fussed over the boy all around. "And not to worry, if I join glee, I'll join a sports team."

They stared as she left the car and joined the rest of the team. All but Artie; he was joining them at the site. The brunette couldn't help but feel that he would be missing all the fun, and she was happy to have someone to talk with. Finn was seething to see the Asian girl talking with the girl of his interest, and slowly introducing her. Kurt was also happy to learn more about, whom he had dubbed as his savior, and with her boy supporting the new girl, Mercedes began to open up.

Golden boy was frowning; he had wanted to use the time to get to know her better, and with the other ruining his scheme. He had wanted something more one on one instead of all for one. He tried listening, but it just wasn't getting to him, so he slept most of the way. He managed to wake up when there was a lull, and figuring he could give it a try to talk with the girl, they arrived.

Once there, they took the program. The Jew finally understood why her dad didn't push the issue with Carmel High; the high profile teacher they had gotten from NYC was having trouble formalizing things, so she was coming latter on in the year. Exactly when, it was anyone's guess. She did make sure to talk a bit with the boy stuck on his chair, if just to give him a sense that he was included. She had felt the exclusion enough during her trips before coming to her loving family, and it was a feeling she definitely didn't want anyone else to suffer through.

Interesting enough, she ended up with the only jock of the club in a line to eat something. Kurt had gone off exclaiming the low nutrition value and Mercedes followed, along with Artie. Tina seemed to have forgotten something on the bus. Feeling that the silence was oppressing, she decided to speak.

"You're very talented." Rachel stated at the same time as Finn; he grinned while she was puzzled.

"Really?" He asked happily, delighted grin on his face.

"Well, yeah —" She replied, still puzzled; they began moving along the line. "I'm sure you don't need to hear it."

"True but, it's still nice." He stated happily. "And I would know talent when I see it; I'm very talented too as you just pointed out. I think the rest of the team expects us to become an item."

"You, the hot male lead, and me, the stunning young ingenue everyone roots for?" She had seen the movies; she wasn't pleased with the prospect.

"Well, I, uh, have a girlfriend." He tried acting coy, but the data was of interest.

"Really? Who?"

"Quinn Fabray." He had that dopey grin.

"Cheerleader Quinn Fabray?" Of course she knew about her, not so much because everyone else did, but because she just knew. They were trying a tentative friendship, so _of course_ she knew. "The president of the Celibacy Club?"

"For almost four months now. She's cool." Rachel stared. That was the best he could say? "Mmm, I wonder if they have Sour Patch Kids."

"I didn't know she had a boyfriend." The girl muttered seemingly darkly, snapping the boy's mind off the food. The oppressive silence now seemed to have an origin; she would have to talk with her fathers about it.

"What?! You talk with her all the time!" He was indignant.

"Never about you." She answered with a shrug.

"What?"

"You know, they aren't selling anything up to my taste here."

"Rach! I got some vegan snacks!" Tina called, seemingly having just caught up. "My mom made them, specially for you."

"For me?!" The boy was surprised but pleased.

"I meant Rachel, not you Finn," the Asian dismissed, leaving with the Jew to eat a bit before it was time to go see Vocal Adrenaline. "No offense."

He was left puzzled, displeased and offended, but he really wanted to eat something, and they had been close to the cashier, meaning he was closer to getting some food. Once he had paid and managed to find them, they were called for the main event. The boy huffed; he just couldn't catch a break. And what was that about the brunette not knowing his girl was certain blonde? Something just wasn't _right_ about **that** fact, it just **_wasn't_**. At least he had gotten his Sour Patch Kid.

* * *

The presentation had been astounding. Vocal Adrenaline's rendition of _Rehab_, Amy Winehouse's, was fantastic. Rachel thought it could work as a cheerleading routine (she was spending too much time with those three) if a few more blonde-tossing was done. She could appreciate their coordinated costumes and musical cohesiveness, and could see why her dad had wanted her to join that school in the first place. Clearly, her artistic abilities would bloom there. She stood with the rest, not really seeing the despair in her own schoolmates; she didn't regret her choice either way.

"We're d-d-doomed." When she heard her friend stutter the sentence, did she realize what was going on.

By then, they were all leaving, clearly depressed about it all. Rachel tried to say that a healthy rivalry could lead them to greatness. She resolved to spend the rest of the trip back trying to build Tina back to her boosted confidence from the greenhouse.

"Come on!" She exclaimed as they went back to their bus, all of them demoralized. "We _need_ to stop this gloom fest. If you don't believe in yourselves then how do you expect to defeat them."

"If we _want_ any chance," Finn began, frowning in displeasure, "then you should join the club. With you, we could have a fighting chance."

"Yeah." Artie agreed, raising his hand. "Preach."

"He's right you know." The coiffed-haired fashion-oriented boy said, huffing a bit, clearly meaning he didn't want to admit it.

"Will you join?" The jock asked, hopeful; Kurt had a sneer.

"We'll see," her dry response made them groan.

"It's awesome," Tina giggled, poking the brunette besides her, "half the battle is won."

"What the _hell_ is **that** supposed to mean?!" Mercedes disliked the enigmatic way the two girls were talking. "Look, we don't want no joker here, okay?"

"What she means, is that I'm actually giving it a thought, and not just rejecting the idea entirely," the girl confessed, laughing a bit, "just the fact that I'm willing, means it's just a matter of time before I agree."

"Anything we can do to help speed the process?" The bespectacled boy inquired as they all rounded the bus door and his parents waited for him to take him home a light distance away. "It is true, you would help us as more than just as a consultant or something."

"I'll just leave it at: you're getting there," she replied with a teasing wink, climbing inside, quickly followed by Tina. "Bye Artie."

Byes were quickly said, but nothing else. The curly-haired man didn't speak, he just remained seated, trying to figure out what to do in order to get them motivated and back on track. He needed to inspire them, but he didn't have the means to do it.

It wasn't meant to be. After an afternoon spent with Emma, brainstorming and having nothing to show for their effort, he decided that a good night sleep would help him.

"Terri, honey," he frowned; the lights were usually on, and he had dinner ready, "baby, where are you?"

No, it wasn't a robbery. A quick glance with the lights on told him as much. He frowned, as there were shadows playing in dark rooms, thanks to the street lights. From now on, he would have to plan a better route, if such an event was to happen again. Had he entered the kitchen first, he would have been closer to the switch, and the hall's light wasn't bright enough. Perhaps it would be best to change that bulb, he wasn't sure. The man called for his wife a few more times before gaining a response.

"Will?" Her voice sounded raw, making it clear that she had been crying. It came from the guest room, bewildering him. They had plans to turn it into a nursery. "William?"

Even more, was the use of his full name; was Terri sick?

"Terri are you okay?!" He opened the door to find the room drowned in pitch black.

"Don't you **dare** turn the lights on!" Her statement was marked by a sob and he hesitated. For one, he knew how sensitive she was of her image, and he had no idea on what to do. "This is all your fault!"

"Terri, talk to me," he begged, "please, just talk to me."

"You know how sometimes that certain time of the month just skips me?" As if he could forget. So many times they had been scared, then thrilled by the prospect, just to learn her hormones were acting up due to her stress level. "Well, when it missed last month, I thought nothing of it, but it was supposed to be here last week."

"Wait — what?!"

"So I made an appointment and when I called you at the school, they told me you had taken that redheaded _slut_ with you," he turned the lights on, but she clearly wasn't worried about it anymore, "and I became afraid and —"

"Wait, when I burned breakfast, it was actually your morning sickness?" He was now baffled, but still approaching the bed.

"That didn't help!" She was near hysterics by then, actually beating on his chest, her anger evident. "And you don't have to worry about that anymore!

"All the stress about money caught up to me, and that fact that you were out with that whore didn't help," she broke down in his arms, making a heap on the bed, a sobbing wreak; he certainly wasn't ready for the mood swings, "and so, because of you, I had a miscarriage Will, a _miscarriage_!"

Why, oh why, couldn't he be an accountant? It would help her be a housewife, which was what she wanted the most. He was really good with numbers, no genius of course, but still good. He would even be increadibly suited for a math position but no, he had to stick with Spanish _because_ it was the only position available. the man could hardly conjugate the much harder times (because they had about three for the past and two for the future or something) and really, who was that good at english these days? If they hadn't mastered their first, maternal language, how could they be expected to teach another? She just _couldn't_ see it.

"No Terri, no, not now," he began crying himself, berating himself for his selfish actions and not taking the accounting job, "this isn't fair."

"You won't be having that gay baby boy now Will!" She shrieked at him, pushing him away and running to their room.

Clearly, he wasn't sleeping there that night, but he still frowned at the gay comment. At first, he thought it had to be a joke, then began to feel that she was being, in some way, demanding more. No, he was sure she wouldn't love the kid any less, but it did make him feel that she really wanted a girl more than a boy. It did present itself as a concern, but he didn't consider the possibility that it was the reason for the miscarriage.

Oh no, he was much more focused at feeling downright selfish, for not helping as much as he could. In fact, he had been skimming from her, and taking a bit to pay Figgins the sixty he required to keep the club running. It was as if his life was crashing down on him and he began crying again. Good thing that he still had Sunday before he had to go to school. He needed to figure out what he was going to tell the club, and also how, and exactly what, besides getting another job, just to make it up to Terri.

"What have I done?" He asked.

But as expected, there was no answer to be heard, just the barely audible, spine chilling, howling of the wind.

Nothing. . . . .

* * *

MI's Note: enough of the back story, I probably shouldn't have placed all that right up front, the last two filler chapters _but_, I loved the idea of a bond between Mike and Rach, just because, well, with how I'm working out Rachel, she should know several close combat disciplined and hence, would come in contact with a few characters. Example, one that doesn't come into play until, I think, season two?

Soooooo I'm thinking . . . a good thing, considering that's what got me this story, about getting Rachel to be part of the football team, right during Kurt's audition -slash- try-out as well. One, because glee would be totally a LeRoy thing, so football would be a Hiram thing and two, just for the lols. What do you say?

Also: any thoughts with whom to leave Mr. Schue with? Shelby Corcoran is out of question; yes, she's appearing. My reasons for this shall become obvious later along the way.

**_REMINDER_**: there aren't many things defined about this story, other than the general way I want to take it. This isn't as carefully planned as most of my stories (starting to think that's why they're mostly unfinished) so please, as much as you're liking and following, let me know just _why_, **why** you're finding it so interesting.

I mostly get caught up in the grammar of this all, the semantics and such, and I want to really work this one out. Any input is welcome, and might help me figure out something, no matter how insignificant you think it may be. An answer to that why question can help a great deal.

We both want this story to make it, so help me get there, _please_.


	8. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer_: I formally renounce to any claim of these characters, but to take complete ownership to the situations hereby described and in such a fashion. Blah blah blah, blah blah. Blah blah, blah blah blaahbahh!

MI's Note: ah, dear guest, I hope this fulfills your request for FaBerry advances.

I decided it was time for some of Rachel's rambling to be seen, also a subject that I believe may be crucial, specially to any family as mixed up as this one. I'm leaving the messed up part to Santana and Quinn, mainly because that's the freaking feel they left me with through out the series. One would think Britt should be there but no, she's as different and as special as she appears in the series. Now I'm the one rambling; sorry.

Still, what I loved the most about the first part in the carnival, I that Rachel acts like Rachel and yet, like a normal girl. It was extremely fun to write. Hope you like it.

* * *

**Lions' Den**

Chapter 6

It was a lazy Sunday; the Berry family decided to go to a carnival nearby, forgoing church seeing how their Saturday had been hijacked. They still had to drive, but in the end, it was worth it. Rachel could go on all the rides, since her height didn't give her much trouble, seeing as it was a local carnival done for some reason or other. The most Leon could enjoy, were the skill games to gain a prize: fish the goldfish using a net, throw a ball at the piled bottles, throwing the rings, and another involving rubber duckies among many others. They also had a kiddie zoo, which he enjoyed, as well as ridding a goat.

The cutest, were the pictures from the plush toy zoo; since the kiddie one was filled with approachable, adorable creatures that could be easily transported, in order to give the youngsters an idea of what the more exotic creatures looked like, they used the plush zoo. It was nice that, although those toys were taken care off and most likely one-of-a-kind type, they made sure to have bigger plushies to distract the grubby, greedy hands of children who couldn't fully comprehend those plushies weren't theirs to keep, and also get some money of course.

But Leon could understand the concept of sharing. He had learned from Rachel, who would get a wounded look on her face, a face that he couldn't stand to see on her, so he would give his own toys to others just to see her smile. The boy understood more than anyone knew, save for the brunette always with him. She was currently competing against their daddy to see who could aim better and faster. They had struck a deal; if by the end they gathered others willing to test themselves against the family, they could chose one of the bigger plushies.

"What do you say Lee," she was panting a bit, having had a workout from going at it for half an hour; their athletic father had given up about ten minutes ago, leaving her to compete with others until she was declared victorious. "Which one do you want?"

"Tie!" Everyone was puzzled by the response but the girl, who smiled the softest smile and gave him a husky kiss.

"You sure?"

"Ye!" She narrowed her eyes in mock glare with a smile and the boy pouted, then relented. "Yes."

"I knew you knew," she teased, turning back to the baffled man at the stand, "the biggest, plushiest and most intimidating tiger in the whole carnival please."

Her statement was done with conviction, and the man could just swallow, blink, pull on the neck line of his uniform and excused himself, leaving someone else in charge as many other clients tried to beat her time. The girl turned back to the baby boy as the men chuckled at the events.

"Now it seems like our own lion has grown to like the ironic nickname your blonde companion gave him," Hiram teased.

"What does that say about our baby girl," LeRoy questioned with twinkling eyes, "huh?"

She blushed, but was fortunately saved from saying anything as the young man came back with one of the biggest plushies she had ever seen. Chocolate eyes went wide at the sight, then chuckled at the fact that the eyes were green with soft, hazel spots. Quite fitting, if a bit unsettling. Taking the toy, the tall man led them to one of the benches; the brunette left them for a few moments to go for caramel-covered apples for all of them, including the young boy in their dad's arms.

"Um, dad, daddy," she began softly, not sure how to begin; they were all people watching, even the toddler, who obediently ate his treat, knowing his imah was near. "I think I may be gay."

"Why do you say that honey?" Hiram began with caution.

"Or rather, what finally clued you in?" The other man teased, and at the silence, he realized his mistake. "Wait, baby girl —"

"No, now is as good as any to come clear," sometimes, they couldn't follow her train of thought, "Caroline could be best described as a puppy crush; she was the first person, without distinguishing genders, who showed me something other than scorn or distaste, but when she proved her loyalty, I was done for.

"It's how I am with both of you," when they didn't interrupt, she breathed a small sigh of relief; they were genuinely interested in what she had to say, "if I had to, I would go to the moon and beyond. She taught me I could give my all, that as long as it just came from my heart, I would never feel exhausted, since I truly wanted to do so without expecting anything in return."

"Aw, and here I was," the fashionista gushed at her, loving the way she expressed herself, "hoping we were the ones to teach you as much."

At the interruption, she took a bite out of her apple, and at her eager munching to get a word in, they laughed.

"Easy there, gold star," the one holding the toy requested, handling his apple like a pro. Not a drop of caramel fell on the soft coat of the tiger, "he's just teasing."

"But in a sense, he's right —"

"What did I tell you about telling him that too often?"

"Hey!" She bit her lower lip as the teasing continued for a bit. "Anyway, go on sweety."

"Right," she smiled, feeling great that they themselves brought the subject back around, "you reinforced what she taught me, and she was always more of an older sister, and she would often tell me how she felt around one boy or another."

A brief silence was followed as both men grew uncomfortable, not knowing how to deal with the information. How specific had the older girl been? They didn't know yet who the boy's biological father was, and were sure that Rachel herself didn't know with certainty. The girl was lost in memories though, and it was the baby boy who pulled them to attention at an exclamation. He had seen a plushy of a frog.

"Anyway, my love-sick puppy affection for her never extended to her descriptions," she sighed mildly, as though wishing otherwise, "sure, I was happy when I was besides her, but I didn't crave to be by her side, nor did I need it to be happy, it didn't even increase my happiness, though I was seldom a happy girl on my own, but I had my moments."

They smiled at that, and she smiled back, and they munched in silence for a bit, as to not let the treat go to waste. They checked on an ever watching Leon, who was careful with the sucking of his apple, but though he could take care to not place it to close to his person, he had yet to understand it could fall from his mouth and land on his trousers. Good thing they had a napkin placed on his lap.

"So, you think you like someone as she often expressed her like for those boys?" The taller man asked delicately.

"You never felt jealous about those boys?" LeRoy asked in mock whisper, but seriously looking for an answer and to soften the mood a bit. The girl giggled that time.

"No, not even when she had to ditch me for them," she said with a laugh, smiling, "but with Quinn, I constantly wonder what she's doing, if she's okay, what she would do if she was here, and then I get guilty because I know Noah likes her."

"Boys that age are less likely to love as you girls love, or need to be loved," if there ever was a serious topic to the fashionista, it was love, "it's why most girls at around your age try dating older boys."

"Not here though," the taller man countered with a light chuckle at the slap to his arm; how dare his own husband contradict him in front of their children? "With the way they perceive image, they're likely to date among their own age group.

"How are you going to do though," he began with a light, worried frown, "with her family and upbringing, she's perhaps denying your perfect chemistry —"

"You knew it was her?" She gaped and they laughed.

"We _are_ your fathers," the finishing statement of the slightly shorter male made her blush, making her feel that they did understand her maybe better than she understood herself.

"It certainly couldn't be Santana," Hiram agreed while shaking his head, "and Britt only gives indication of even being bi when she's with the Latina."

"Really, the expression 'gay for' never felt more glaringly obvious," at her puzzled expression, the men chuckled but the one talking decided to elaborate, "if Brittany didn't have Santana, she would most likely experiment, but stick with boys."

"Love's funny that way."

"Then it fits me too " she said with a confused frown and a sigh, "in level of attractiveness, everyone is shapeless until their personality truly shines, then I notice if it's girl or boy, but up to now, that has only happened with Quinn."

"So there's no difference between, say, Brittany, Santana, Mike and Puck?" It was their turn to be baffled and she just shrugged.

"Let's add Tina to the mix, and they're still important people," her eyes were lost in the distance right then, "but if you add Quinn, she just shines right through them all and I'm helplessly magnetized to being besides her.

"I want to _be_ there, help her out with anything and everything, to show her I'm her equal and that I can protect her against anything and everything," a helpless sigh, "that she can just be, as long as she's happy, and I can tell she isn't, that she's struggling but, I cannot demand her to confide, just show her she can and yet. . . . It doesn't feel like it's enough, that it'll ever be enough. . . ."

"Wow, that's definitely love," Hiram stated after a pause, and the girl sighed again, then groaned. "Of course our overachieving daughter would aim for something _beyond_ the stars. Should I start calling you Buzz, or just Lightyear?"

"Why don't we stick with stupid and leave it at that?" She requested and they chuckled a bit.

"Rachel, honey," the Jew left it in the Christian's hands; sure, he would want to be able to help out, but he was out of his depth. Besides, it was the same man who helped him realize what he liked and wanted, it was when he chose and decided he wanted LeRoy and only LeRoy for the rest of his life, "we don't chose _who_ we love; we just **do**. I suggest you let it flow, and if it remains, then talk to her about it."

"Even then, it is better if you do so after high school," the other man supplied hesitantly, clenching his fist at the discomfort his own words caused him, "I don't want you suffering like Roy did."

"That's the other thing," she now had worry in her eyes and they feared for what could come from her mouth, "if people start saying you made me this way, how are we going to refute it?

"I don't want to leave, or have Leon taken from his most amazing shot," she began to bite her lower lip with worry, apples now forgotten, "now _that_ is something I wouldn't be able to forgive myself."

"Rachel, easy, take deep breaths and munch on your caramel apple," Hiram began firmly, going as far as to leave the toy on his husband's back as he went to go besides the girl. None of them wanted to leave the plushie on the ground, specially if it would be sleeping with the kids, "now orientation is something that can be identified at a young age, or it can be discovered."

"Your attraction to this person goes beyond gender," the other man affirmed as he took care of the child in his arms; an apple was too much for Lee, then again Rachel would likely finish it, "the fact that this person is a girl is just a casualty, although girls emotional maturity growth is faster than boys, it just means that the probability of you finding girls attractive first is more likely. That, of course, doesn't mean you might not find a boy to be attractive later on."

She let that sink in and by then, the sun was setting. They finished their apples, with Rachel taking her second from the boy, who had fallen asleep, and Hiram took the toy back, just to make a formal exchange with LeRoy, who stretched his legs in a grateful, exaggerated manner. They sat there, in companionable and rather sweet silence, just enjoying each other among the busy carnival, watching the sun set as others went about their busy way. To the girl, it felt exhilarating, just to be able to share a moment of astounding beauty with her family, a _real_ family, amidst a bunch of strangers who ignored the beauty of an event that occurred every single day.

It brought her peace, and when they returned, did she realize something. She was falling for the same girl her Jew bro had feelings for. That had to spell out trouble. So in order to prevent even a fracture on their strong walls of friendship, the first genuine relation she had ever made with someone her own age, her actual _age_ for crying out loud, she decided to call him over.

"Hey!" He greeted them, huge box of pizza from the only Italian restaurant who made vegan pizzas. "Hey there Jew-Champ! Brought some goodies for my two brothers who only eat vegan."

The two men frowned but said nothing. It did make sense at a whole new level now that they knew about their daughter though, interesting enough.

"Don't stay up too late," they called, calling it a night but getting the chance that they were all downstairs and playing a movie to get in some private time.

"So we're watching a movie where the evil one isn't a man and the hero is totally misunderstood," the young man stated as he placed the box down on the coffee table and greeted the Jews sitting with a kiss each. "Okay, seeing him as your child makes this feel like a family."

"I love you too Noah," she teased, grinning when she got the blush she expected. "And although I approve of Rapunzel, I do believe we have a serious talk while _our_ boy enjoys the toons."

She gave said boy a lingering kiss on the temple, then turned to smile softly at her brother, who still blushed a bit but accepted the term with a soft smile. They helped the toddler get settled on her legs, munching a slice of pizza. He would, with any luck, finish it all by the end of the film. Once he was settled though, the pair took a chance to enjoy the comfort of each other before breaking the ice.

"Ever since school began, we haven't spent much time together," she said, looking sad and the shadows of a pout showed a bit. "I do hope that our next time, we don't end up in another fight."

"I was hoping we could open a fight club," he said lightly, and they laughed a bit. One of those days though, they would make that dream come true. "Saw you've been spending quite some time with the high and mighty threesome of school."

"Santana can grow on you," she remarked fondly, then laughed, "and it's only been a week!"

"Yes well, you had leverage with Brittany already one of your bffs," he jested, pushing her shoulder a bit to incline her, even though she straightened up almost as quick. "We may as well say you cheated."

They enjoyed their silence as the movie played songs about dreams. That such big, mean thugs could have such incredulous dreams was preposterous but still, wasn't that the whole purpose of dreams, for them to seem far fetched and still, within realm of reality? She wouldn't know, it had been too long since she had had such a dream. The last had been to simply survive with Leon, already given up on: her parents wanting her back and looking for her, an artist seeing her and taking her away from it all, finding out she was an heir to a kingdom. . . . So far fetched and yet, within the realm of reality. Now she had another such dream, and it could compete with the others on which would happen first. Either those, or the end of the world.

"Noah . . ." she began hesitantly, and taking a deep breath, decided to come out. "I've found someone I like."

"Someone sparked your interest?" The information was surprising; he had known how she just saw everyone as human, not as a man or women, girl or boy.

"Yes, and I'm not sure since when," she winced and he frowned, "but it's Quinn Fabray."

"_The_ Quinn Fabray?"

"Is there another?" She jibbed and he raised his hand in surrender. She sighed. "I just realized what it was, but I have no idea since when."

"So it might have been before I told you I have something for her," he summarized, and she shut her eyes tight, "not to worry, you're new to the whole bro code."

"That doesn't stop me from feeling bad," she answered, releasing her breath and opening her eyes; she was greeted with a smile, "the other thing is, in all likelihood, you're the one who has a chance with her."

"Just promise me I'll be allowed to watch if you do get it on," he winked and they both laughed.

"Noah!" She kept on laughing. Going to their third slice, the boy having finished half of his, and with the movie as background, they enjoyed their company. "Thank you, really, for understanding."

"So you won't let me see?"

"Noah. . . ."

"Fine. So, no one else?"

"No. Why? Had someone in mind?"

"Finn?" The made a face and he laughed at it, falling to the floor as the girl simply shook her head but otherwise did nothing about it. "Really Babe, he _is_ the school's golden boy, favored just because he's the captain and quarterback."

"That reminds me, how can I join the team?"

"Runner back?"

"Would have to train to be a good safety."

"We could do some training if you want." He thought a bit about it. "So, no interest in him what's so ever? And if I got Quinn, you wouldn't get mad?"

"At all," she grimaced at the perspective of _Finn_. She just couldn't see his appeal, despite his good singing, "and I would rather have you two as a couple than her and _him_."

"You really don't like him, do you?"

"After I caught him ordering a dumpster dive on Kurt?"

He chuckled at that, nodding. "Point taken. Glad you don't hold that against me."

"You're still giving those to Jacob, aren't you?

"He's a weasel."

"He's creepy."

Nodding, they left it at that. The mood turned sour at the mention of their fellow Jew. It was affronting, to be in any way related to the boy. Good thing it didn't extend to being related by blood, that would be the only thing she would give thanks to too being adopted, but fortunately, Hiram was nothing of the boy anyway. It would seem he _was_ related to Noah's mother, which made Rchel and him sort of cousins to the third degree twice removed or some other nonsense of those. Not that they kept such tabs _anyway_. If they had to label the other, it was best bros, or rather, best Jew bros or bjb as she often joked; she just didn't get the abbreviations. Not always, anyway.

The young man left once the movie was done, congratulated her on winning the tiger, and gave the toddler a friendly noogie, obviously not hurting him. Once she went to their shared room, she set the boy down to sleep, changing him and placing him on his crib. She went to dress in her pjs, then back to bed, having to share her mattress with the tiger, and having to share Leon with said tiger. After the unsettling way the words played in her head, Rachel finally surrendered to Morpheus' arms and a dream-full sleep. Too bad she never remembered them.

* * *

Problems presented themselves about a week or so later; Mr. Schue had made a decision that affected them all as a club. Of course, Rachel wasn't oficially part of the club but she went to some of their meetings, mostly since she had grown used to being taken home by Quinn and for them to spend their afternoons with homework and Leon. She loved it, and so had grown used to going to glee or the library to spend her time.

"You're leaving us?" Artie's words snapped the brunette who had decided to spend her time on their practice, "when?"

"Well, I've given my two weeks' notice —"

"When?" Rachel asked, frowning a bit; how could she join a club that was coming apart? "When did you give your notice?"

"I just formally submitted it," he confessed, earning a reprieve from the inquiring girl but complaints from the rest; they had two weeks to figure it out, "last week."

Scratch that, they had one left; it was Tuesday, they had some time at least. The man raised his hands to placate them. They finally quieted down.

"But I promise I'm gonna find you guys a great replacement before I go." He said with finality.

"It's been a week and you haven't done that yet?" He was right though, he had to do it, not them, "how long do you have left, three days?!"

"She's right Mr. Schue."

"This is so unfair."

"B-b-but Mr. Schue. . . ."

"Is this 'cause those Carmel kids were so good?" The others, sans hot male lead and stunning young ingenue, agreed hotly and wholeheartedly with their dark-skinned diva. "Because we can work harder."

"This isn't fair, Mr. Schuester," the brunette began with a soft and cute frown, "is this why you bugged me so much to join?"

"So does that mean I don't have to be in the club anymore or . . ?" Finn wisely decided to shut it at the glares from the other and frown; why were the losers giving him grief?

"This isn't about you guys." He began, confusing them all; wasn't glee club about them and didn't this affect the club directly? "Being an adult is about having to make difficult choices. It's not like high school. Sometimes . . . you have to give up the things that you love. One day, you guys are going to grow up and understand that. I have loved being your teacher."

"Mr. Schuester, I believe you're the one who doesn't fully understand," the voice, they had heard, but the tone was new, and the icy look was filled with disappointment, those chocolate eyes looking like hard coal, "sometimes what you must give up is the things that make everything easier to keep the things you love the most closer."

"Rachel, you can't possible understand —" but his statement was cut short by a strong fist being smashed against a desktop surface, and the tanned hand wasn't even positioned in a punch-like fashion. "Rachel —!?"

"No, _no one_ has the right to say that, not to _me_," she demanded heatedly, tears about to spill, "**I** gave up the _comfort_ of normal homes to stay in the house, just for **Leon**, I _gave up_ my studies not caring how much _harm_ it could bring me in the long run, _just_ to care for a **boy** who isn't even related to me by **blood**!

"I have given so much up for myself, my well being and others, even before that boy appeared in my life," she ended up walking straight at him, overwhelming him with the responsibilities no child should bear, yet she had, because she believed that there just had to be someone decent and willing to give her a chance, else she would be driven to grief and suicide; no one knew the scars she carried, "willing to do the impossible for others, and I finally found two loving fathers; I may have no mother but they, my friends who are dear and close, and one growing lion, are all I need and it's because I love them, that I'm willing to go to all extremes to make things work.

"I'm here now because I love to sing, and I love singing with Tina," said teen blushed furiously, "and because she genuinely likes this club, for Streisand that I have yet to figure out why, but she's a dear friend and I'm willing to risk my time with Leon for her, while knowing I'll _still_ make time for him."

"Rachel. . . ." The man was left without solid ground, and the girl breaking down in front of him wasn't helping.

"No one has the right to tell me that," she said finally, having had to take a deep breath, else she knew she would choke herself, not with the lack of air but with all her surfacing feelings. "No one."

"Rachel?" Certain blonde, right after Cheerio practice, had come to see her home, just to find her on the border of a hysterical collapse and immediately ran to her. Holding her and providing a shoulder to cry on, the comfort she gave was more important than anything else. Glaring at everyone, including the teacher, she dragged the girl out, followed by one Tina Cohen-Chang. "It's okay Rach, forget and ignore them okay? I'm here and I'm going to take you home and we'll play with Lee."

"Rachel?" The brunette gave the blonde holding her a tight smile, untangled herself from the comfort, just to hug and provide as much comfort as she could to the Asian girl.

"I'll try to help as much as I can Tina," she whispered on her ear, "I promised."

"Come on Rach," she went back to the comforting pale arms and sighed in relief at the contact.

The man left, defeated, and when Tina came back, she asked what they all thought about getting Rachel as interim director, that she herself was willing to help as assistant for the Jew. They took the remaining time to work it over, not noticing they were missing one male member, who had left to follow the other two. Sadly, a girl's bathroom door prevented him from following it entirely.

"Finnept, whatever it is that you're planning standing there, I'll ruin it if you don't scram," Santana threatened him, hatred in her eyes; she hadn't forgiven him for shooting Britt's Spyro (which had actually been a great suggestion) game scheme with one lame-ass comment, "if you're still around here when I come out, I'm kicking you in your tender lower region and leaving you with no family jewels to give your children."

"Wouldn't he be unable to have kids?" B asked, puzzled, and the Latina grinned as the dumb boy got the idea.

"Yes," she replied sweetly before calling after the boy, "your jewels will be mine if I catch you doing this shit again, and I'll use them as jewelry and not for what they were meant to be used!"

"You got more balls than him anyway, Santana," Rachel commented as soon as the door opened, and they moved along.

* * *

MI's Note: I knew I needed the conversation between Rachel and her fathers before approaching the whole thing with Schuster and the interim director, and then, well, it has PuckleBerry bromance peeps, the following conversation had to follow because this is Racel, she just has to be adamant (there was a different word starting with _a_ but, it felt too strong) about proper conduct and codes, and what she had with him is pretty special to her, seeing as she only ever had it with Caroline.

Rejoice! This came earlier than expected, but the cliffhanger wasn't intentional, though it follows some of the show, and like shown, I played around with the lines, if just to make this fit and feel real. Expect the unexpected and hopefully, it'll still be surprising, :D


	9. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer_: all conventional (and unconventional) ideas and twists on dialogs and plots are, in all honesty, mine, otherwise they and the characters are all FOX's and Ryan's (yes, we are on first name basis and yes, this is an attempt at humor)

MI's Note: back on track with the series so yes, I'm twisting the dialogs about a bit to make it fit this world. Hope you like it. As I read once in _Skip Beat!_ Manga, the intention with which a line is spoken it can give a different feel to it and hence, change the entire mood. Of course, that is in the verbalizing of the words, hope the connotations and following actions have the same effect.

Dear guest: I'm not sure what I'm going to do about Puck and Quinn, though there is one scene that conveys her regret and realizing why she went ahead with her actions, just to leave feeling bad. He calls his bjb and she helps the blonde.

* * *

**Lions' Den**

Chapter 7

Wednesday came and went, with Finn missing out on their morning practice and the glee kids telling Rachel they thought she could be the interim director, and they would do their best to help her. She was overwhelmed by their willingness, since they didn't know her that long either. But still, she was anything but decorous and so, gracefully accepted. First thing though, talk to their jock-headed member. Even if she wasn't one to procrastinate, she thought of it as postponing an inevitable encounter of the painful kind. So it being Thursday, if he didn't appear, she would have the talk the next day.

. . . .

He didn't appear.

* * *

"I think he's after your girl."

"_My_ girl?"

"Don't play coy with me Q," the Latina snapped; they were on their own, having had to skip a class due to an eccentric coach demanding the need to have them with her to plot the destruction of the misfit's little group. _Apparently they had elected from among their ranks a leader of their own, just when William was going out_, Sylvester had told them. "The way you act with her isn't how you act with me or B."

"You don't act with me the way you act with her," the blonde countered. They found themselves at the bleachers, finding it stupid to go back to class; she had science, but Rachel took it as a chance to prove the brain of their duo she could do it, while the raven-haired girl had history, "and you don't find me crawling up yours to figure out why or make you say why."

"Touché. . . ." Their relation had improved with Rachel, as astounding as that could be. "Anyway, I don't think there's any need to worry."

"I'm not."

"Good." The bell rang as if to prove Santana's point. "Because I don't need you to be extra bitchy about that."

Ignoring her, Quinn guided their way which took them by her boyfriend's locker, where she unexpectedly found the brunette they had been talking about. Sharing a glance, in which nothing was said, they approached the pair. It was Friday and they all had a weekend long planned sleepover. With their scheming coach planning something, they had to go with her to watch the mouth-breathers' rehearsal that afternoon. Rachel was anything but professional in anything that required her attention, and the club certainly did.

"Hi Finn," the blonde eyed them, interrupting though it looked as though there was nothing to interrupt. She turned to the brunette, trying to reign her inner bitch but it still manifested itself through the biting greeting. "RuPaul."

"Hey," he replied in what he deemed was, a cool demeanor.

"Queen." Not many could tell the difference, but the blonde understood the teasing jib, getting a soft smirk on her face which earned her a goofy smile from the other girl; the Latina rolled her eyes.

"So what were you talking about?" The HBIC seemed to demand.

"Science project," he blurted, clearly hiding something, "we're partners."

They all stared as cold, black eyes widen comically and then began laughing. Turing to face each other, since it was disturbing how out of it the boy was, the brunette decided to answer with all honesty she knew the other girl deserved.

"I came to ask Finn why he hadn't been on glee club yesterday," she stated.

"Is that still happening?" He couldn't even keep up his own lies and the girls rolled their eyes.

"I'm going along," Santana declared with disgust, "there's a limit to how much incompetence I can handle. By the way, _Pastry Bag_, they share their classes, they know you're lying. _Moron_."

With more colorful insults being muttered loudly as she left, the boy had the decency to blush. The remaining girls sighed and decided to ignore him, talking to him by proxy. It did make the experience less tortuous.

"Heard you're interim director."

"I hope it isn't permanent," the brunette confessed with a grimace.

"Wait, you aren't even part of the club," the boy began with a frown, "why would you be the internship director?"

"Interim director Finn."

"Honestly, how can you date him?"

"Right now, I'm not even sure," the blonde answered with a sigh.

"Hey!" At least he understood when he was being mocked, that was something. "You still haven't answered my question."

"The clubbers asked me to take the position," the reply was done with a shrug, and the boy's frown became more pronounced.

"Wait, why ask you and not me?"

"Finn, you haven't gone to their practice — he hasn't, right?" The pale teen asked and the other girl who nodded.

"Right."

"Oh." He looked sad briefly, then puzzled, which looked as though he was frowning. It was confusing when he used the same expression for different feelings. "Wait, what does that have to do with it?"

"Seriously, you aren't going to dump him?"

"He has his uses." The Christian remarked dryly.

"Hey, I'm here!"

"Yes, which is how you have to be in order to be considered for something," the petite female snapped, growling in aggravation; hell below would know why _he_ blushed, but it couldn't be due to embarrassment, at least not in any intellectual level. He actually thought the growl was done as a sexual innuendo. "So since you haven't been at the glee club practices, you wouldn't be considered for anything."

"Oh." It probably wouldn't be a good idea to ask the brunette on a date right then, specially with his girlfriend there, so he decided to leave, still confused.

"Seriously, you aren't going to dump him yet?"

"He boosts my popularity."

"That's surprising," it was a genuine comment, "considering how smart he is, I would say he is more like preventing you from reaching your potential, in more aspects then just popularity."

Their eyes met, and through mutual agreement, decided not to speak of it and just go along. They had to switch their books for their next class anyway. They went right ahead. Sadly, they found the boy at the Jew girl's locker. They both grimaced.

"Oh, hey Quinn," at least he wasn't looking for Rachel. "I was wondering, Christ Crusaders' meeting will be tonight at five, right?"

"Finn, I canceled, _last meeting_," she stressed, exasperated, seeing what her friend meant about dumping him, and she was close to just doing that, "I'm spending the weekend on my monthly sleepover."

"Okay, cool," at least it wasn't an _oh_. "Alright, I'll see you both later."

He went his way as the girls stared, still unsettled by his shifting mood swings; if Rach didn't know better, she would think he was pregnant, since he wasn't going from sadness to happiness in their extremes to be considered bipolar.

"Yeah, at lunch as always," chocolate eyes rolled, scoffing a bit, "I'm not even sure if that's what he meant."

"I know him," the blonde replied dryly and darkly, "so no, he definitely doesn't mean lunch."

They both sighed.

* * *

Still, the conversation Rachel needed to have with the boy was far from over. She found him later, when she went to the bathroom and he was wandering the halls for some strange reason. Not wanting to know what he was doing besides dawdling, she aimed straight for the jugular.

"Finn —"

"Oh hey! I was looking for you," he gave her his dopey smile but she was unimpressed. "So, what are you doing this weekend?"

"I have a previous compromise," she stated, and at his confused look, she huffed and decided to go straight to the point. "I need to talk about glee."

"Look, I — I should go, got class and —"

"_Finn_." That tone made him stop and grit his teeth. Okay, he liked the thrill of the defiance, but that tone was of exasperation, as if he was a moron; he _wasn't_.

"I can't do glee anymore," he snapped, but she just crossed her arms and huffed some more, making him narrow his eyes, "you shouldn't either, for that matter, it _conflicts_."

"With what, reputation?" She rolled her eyes. "You've really got _something_ Finn, and —"

"You think so?" He grinned his one and only dopey grin.

"Yes, and worrying about reputation isn't helping nourish it," she stated with conviction and he now frowned, "you're just throwing it away."

"I'm going to be late," he said, not liking the point she was making.

"You can't keep worrying about what people think of you, Finn." She certainly didn't. She understood the pressure, knowing Noah, though he did take those shackles off when she requested the stop on those poor souls, even if he did keep it up with creeps, "you're better than most."

"Puck included?"

"Noah is _never_ included," he was her Jew brother, how dare he mention her bjb? "You know what, forget it, maybe it's for the best."

Without saying anything further, she returned to class. Comparative Political Studies was definitely interesting, but that was totally thanks to the teacher. Reading material then discussing in class and learning from each other, with him orienting them. He would often shift them around and mix things a bit, but he clearly liked the way Rachel and Quinn worked, as he left them together. Since she had left, he had shuffled them around again. She smiled as she looked at the blonde and sat down, then the pale girl pressed their shoulders together in support. Frannie may have been the one to start it, but the way they worked with it meant more than what the older blonde had meant.

* * *

Soon, the day was over and most of the student body fled the building as though it was on fire and they were in danger of being burned. Escaping hell had to be a similar scene. The only ones remaining in doors were clubs or extracurricular activities being held by teachers for students who wanted the help. Even if they needed it, if given a choice, they would flee. All the cheerleaders sans three special ones had gone home, delighted to know they were able to go their merry way. Quinn and her entourage remained just because their coach needed their insight on certain brunette in order to take the crew of mouth breathers out.

Such brunette was taking heat from her peers, for making them stay a Friday when they didn't usually have club meetings, but they dealed with it. It couldn't be helped, they had to admire the dedication the girl was imprinting. For starters, she wasn't officially part of the club yet, mainly because she didn't want to, otherwise, they could see why Tina and the cheerleaders liked her. She had qualities that weren't usual to see in someone their age, but her naivety was endearing, even if she could rant.

They had been doing vocal warming and flexibility exercises to improve their lungs' capacity and capability of making extenuating dance moves; she didn't even press them to execute them to perfection, and if they wanted to change it to fit themselves or each other, she welcomed their input. It was amazing, even if they felt the need for recognition from an adult and teacher, not a peer. Incredulous, they found out she craved for it as much as they did.

The others, mostly jocks, left for the bleachers and field, and that was where Finn finally caught up to one crazy Jew whom he thought he could trust to have his six.

"Puck!" The huge boy demanded, shoving his ex-best friend aside. "What's the deal? I go to glee club and you guys are paint balling me but you can be friends with that dork?"

"Watch you mouth Finnesa!" He snarled, pushing him, making the taller boy back off; he could still kill the golden boy, and they both knew it. "And what do you want me to do, apologize?"

"That would be nice, yeah!"

"That's not me dude, and you know it," he huffed, crossing his arms. "Look, if I joined the flag team, you'd beat the crap out of me, and I'd let you! Even if my Jew Babe is there, doesn't mean I'm joining them!"

"You're just not putting them in their place!" Adams said with a frown just to back off at the snarl the Mohawk boy sent his way. "He is right though Finn, we don't understand why joined them."

"You ditched us!" Everyone stared at Karofsky. "What?!"

"Dude, even I heard that."

"_What_?!"

"That sounded gay dude!"

"Yeah, do you know how many chicks have said that to me?" Puck remarked, shuddering. "I'm gonna barf —"

"Schuester told me to, all right!? He said he'd give me enough credit to pass Spanish, and I needed the credit!" The quarterback yelled, crossing his arms as to not wave them around and look like a fool. "You know what's gonna happen to me if I fail another class? I'd be off the team! Look guys, it's over, okay? I quit."

"Welcome back, Finny D," the Jew greeted him as many others in the team clapped his back.

Others said welcome as well, and then Azimio and Dave guided the other two to the portable toilets from where they heard sounds. Finn stood, dumbstruck, while Puck hit the door and opened it, immediately having to turn around due to the stench.

"We got you guys a present," Asimio began.

"As a welcome back to the world of the normal." Dave began, earning a punch from the dark-skinned boy, who was frowning. "Sorry, you wanted to finish it."

"Are you guys done being gay?" Puck asked seriously, making an uproar from the rest of the team.

"Guys, what's up?" Mike suddenly appeared. "Coach Tanaka is looking for us."

"You found them?" Matt, as always, wasn't far behind.

"Good to know you two aren't involved in this mess," Puck stated; Rachel would be disappointed so much in her new friends. "We need to help Artie, I think he passed out in there."

"Dude, what's going on?" Finn was still bewildered.

"What does it look like?" Matt demanded as Mike did his best to take the boy in wheels out of the toilet and Puck was busy trying to hold others off; he felt as though he was acting as Safety out in the field and in the middle of a game. "They got Artie inside."

"They probably want to flip it," Puck stated once the rest had backed off; they were willing to try to take him on, but him and Matt? They didn't want to take chances.

"Isn't that kind of dangerous?"

"Why is Finn asking stupid questions?" Mike demanded, finally breathing again as he took the boy out, looking green. "I'm going to puke."

He did, while everyone else gagged at the smell coming off the toilet. Mike _did_ empty the content of his stomach, but fortunately it didn't set a chain reaction.

"Did you all take a dump in there?" Their captain inquired.

"_Yes_!" The other three replied, exasperated. "They _did_!"

"Look he's in a wheelchair already!" Dave scoffed, recovering first.

"We were saving you the first roll dudes!" Azimio added, but three of the four just shook their heads.

"Are you out of your mind?" Puck's demand was rather abrupt. "You think he wouldn't get hurt _much_ worse because of it?!"

"His dad is a lawyer!" Mike roared at them. "Do you think he wouldn't sue _us_, the **team** and the **school**!?"

"Can't believe you guys would be this stupid," Matt muttered.

"What the hell?!"

"You're helping this loser!?"

"Don't you get it man?" The Asian boy began.

"We're all losers!" Matt stated, then turned to his best friend with an apologetic smile, "not talking about you dude."

"Everyone in this miserable, backwater town, is a freaking loser!" Puck reiterated, nodding to the one exception in their group and meaning a few others that they knew. "Out of all the kids who graduate, maybe half will got to college —"

"I say about three of those, will leave the state to do it," Mike remarked.

"Just in case dude," Matt clapped the back of their captain, "we don't mean you."

"I'm not afraid of being called a loser 'cause I can accept that that's what I am," Puck said with finality.

"Hear!" Mike and Matt cheered in chorus, and they gave the taller boy the confidence he needed.

"Yeah, I'd be a fool to turn my back on something that actually made me happy," Finn said with conviction, and everyone turned to stare; that actually sounded smart for a change. He was realizing that was what Rachel meant, and actually doing it could prove to be a boost in those chocolate eyes and get her, "okay, so playing football makes me happy but, there's something about singing that makes me happy in a different way for the first time in my sorry life."

"So what?" Karofsky's eyes seemed to be about to pop out of his sockets.

"Are you all quitting to join Homo Explosion?" Azimio demanded.

"With the way they're expressing their feeling," Dave scoffed, crossing his arms and looking away.

"Oh man!"

"Why are you pointing that shit out now?"

"Giving me the _creeps_!"

_That_ caused massive uproar from all but Finn and Azimio, both boys gawking and clearly not fully understanding.

"And _we_, aren't joining!" Matt scoffed, motioning to his best friend and Puck, turning to face their captain, "although it certainly seems that someone _is_ joining."

"I'm doing both," Finn stated with a frown, taking the wheelchair; Artie had returned a while later, but simply stared and listened to the whole deal. "'Cause you can't win without me and neither can they."

With that, he began turning the chair around, ready to take the younger boy away. Artie simply licked his finger and pressed it to his arm, making a hissing sound. The three on their side laughed at that. They definitely just got burned. The others began moaning at the fact that their captain left them to probably lead another bunch of losers. It began to sting, having to admit it but even they knew the truth of it.

Puck watched with a frown. If he could only know that the older of the pair was doing it for those losers, and not for Rachel, he would even applaud, but since Finn was keeping his intentions to himself, he couldn't. It was the real reason for him to join the paintball brigade.

* * *

When Finn wheeled Artie to the auditorium, they found a worried Rachel.

"Calm down, we'll find him," Tina began, sighing a bit, but smiling none the less.

"She's taking it way too personal," Kurt muttered.

"It's nice to know we're more than just means to an end though," Mercedes remarked, watching the other two and how upset the brunette was, "at least she found the prospect of us choosing her to be humbling and amazing fact rather than hinting it was a god-send sign that she was fulfilling some kind of duty."

"It's true, the rumors don't match the girl," the boy stared, narrowing his eyes.

If he could only admit it, if only to himself, the truth, then he would be able to understand what it was that he sensed from her, but his own denial entered in conflict. Funny how the girl had a tinkling from the first day.

"Sorry but, this is a closed rehearsal." Kurt stated, frowning at the sudden entrance from the golden boy.

The desperate Jew cried out in joy, and the fashionista's frown turned to disgust and disappointment. For the first time in his life, he would love to meet a girl who wouldn't fall to the boy's charm and for one moment, he thought he had found such a girl. Said teen had turned to run to the boys, the tall one held his patented dopey smile, looking bashfully at the runner. Much to everyone's surprise, sans Tina of course, she looked at the boy in the chair, giving Artie her full attention and making sure he was okay.

"Look, I owe you guys an apology." Finn tried to gain some attention back, looking at the girl he wanted with a pinning look. "I never should have quit."

"Why are your words directed at me, Finn," the petite female narrowed her eyes at him, being backed up by the youngest girl, "since you owe us all an apology, not just me."

"Right." He turned to look to the side, controlling his anger and fisting his hand. He really didn't like feeling like a moron, but he still wanted her. "I need you guys to know that, I don't want to be the guy that just drives around throwing eggs at people."

"That was you?" Rachel had to control her need to make him pay right then; Sunday at church, a band of hooligans, from a roofless car, had appeared and decided to shower her dad with eggs and, well, she hadn't been able to protect him, since she had to protect her tinok, so she hadn't seen them. At least Tina's hand on her arm helped her easy it all. "I don't want to go wherever you're going once you die."

Trying not to focus on those words, the rest fidget about, all but certain boy who looked at the taller boy with indignation, "you and your friends threw pee ballons at me!"

They turned at the alarming sound of something collapsing, just to notice it was their appointed interim director. Slaming her fists against the floor, with her frame shaking, the diva gave the coiffed-haired male a meaningful glance, and realizing his mistake, he went to her.

"Oh honey, it's okay," seeing she was ready to burst into tears, he gently pushed a chocolate lock behind tanned ear, "Puck hasn't been part of it since at least a year and a half now, possible longer but certainly not two years."

She smiled a watery smile, then became surprised when he opened his arms and, with a shy look, accepted the embrace. Her best friend wasn't heartless, her best friend was honest, her best friend was her Jew Bro, and he loved her that much. At least it helped her contain her tears, and at the thought of her blonde best friend, she managed to calm down incredibly well. There was no way for Brittany not to cause a sweeping effect on her, making her feel like the world didn't have to be alright, as long as the cheerleader's world was still all rosy, unicorns, and rainbows. She did recover quite fast, then again, the Britt cure was the fastest acting.

"I know," the tall boy tried to regain control.

Clearly, Kurt wasn't done with him just yet. "You nailed all my lawn furniture to my roof." It has taken his dad days to get them back down since the boy didn't have the strength required to help.

"I wasn't actually there for that, but I'm really sorry." His apology seemed genuine, and at least he had stopped look at just the brunette. "Look, that isn't who I am, and I'm tired of it.

"This is what I want to be doing, with you guys. I used to think that this was like, the lamest think on earth, and maybe it is, but . . ." He quiet down at the indignant gasps and low mutters, "we're all here for the same reason — 'cause we want to be good at something. So, can I stay?"

Rachel allowed the four kids time to discuss it among them. She could be interim director but, that didn't give her the right to take all the choices. Since she still felt reluctant to join the club, it also made sense. The brunette also wanted to plan things out for a good song, and dividing the tasks could prove to be useful. Tina approached her though, and her machinations halted to give her friend total attention.

"We've come to a decision," she informed her, and she smiled, amused by the way the clubbers themselves worked out their own system; Comparative Political Studies was showing its head, "but we want to know your thoughts."

Her smile turned kind and she looked at the others as well as at Tina, answering them, "guys, I'm just interim director, not supreme ruler and leader. Besides, I haven't formally joined, so think of me as merely the diplomat between you, and the school. So by all means, tell us your verdict."

They looked at one another and simply shrugged.

"Drum roll, please," Kurt requested and Artie did as asked on his knees.

"Fine, you can stay," Mercedes huffed with a good natured smile.

"Yes!" The boy cheered, earning looks; so they were doing the lamest thing on earth?

"Artie, you play the guitar, right?" They recognized the _business_ tone of the Jew; the boy in question nodded. "Think you could recruit the band?"

"Jazz band?" He asked for clarification, but she just shrugged, since it really shouldn't matter. He grinned and shifted his glasses. "I do have pull there."

"Great," she grinned, then turned to the two resident divas, "Mercedes, Kurt, we _need_ new costumes, and I'm sure only the two of you can make them cool —"

"Damn girl, don't you see what I got on?" The African-American sassed, grinning at the grin it earned her.

"I do suppose your moderately good when you don't have on those sweaters," Kurt pointed out with a sigh, but just smiled, "not to worry though, your wardrobe is safe in our hands."

"Sweet," she replied sweetly, then turned to the Asian girl and took her hand, "Tina and I can work our the choreography, we will update Finn as we go.

"But first of all," everyone turned back to her, noticing she was serious with the next question, "any ideas for the song?"

"Wait, what is Justin Timberlake bringing to the table?" The dark skinned girl demanded.

"I'm glad it isn't the fashion," Kurt remarked.

"I'm glad it isn't the moves," Artie added darkly.

"Got news for you guys," the boy in question began dryly, smirking a bit, "I got: the music."

"Better make it good," they murmured.

As they began working with what they had, Emma had taken Will who had confessed about Rachel's outburst and figured a way to make him see reason. In a sense, the petite sophomore had left him tender, and with the counselor's words, he had been left to marinate. Now, the redhead was going to poke the barrier until she got through, and it had to be fairly easy. She _was_ counting on the interim glee director to pull an awesome job at preparing something, mainly because one of her colleagues had told her about the girl when she had been enrolled.

So when Will was thinking about the future of his family, and what was truly best for them, even if Terri got stressed because she would rather spend the money on her goodies than on their kid; he had gone into the Christmas closet by accident just to find exactly _why_ it was that his wife didn't want him in there. In that sense, him skimming sixty was nothing compared to hers; a lie rotting from within, making him wonder if the whole things wasn't a lie, if she hadn't tried hard to miscarry because, well, she wanted to have a daughter and not a gay son, as it would be hard on them and the kid himself.

Walking down the hallway, he heard music. It was strange, hearing music, when he knew glee club wasn't meeting and band was practicing by he field. Following the sound, the Spanish teacher found himself in the auditorium, watching his glee club. Up on the rafters, Cheerio Coach Sue Sylvester with the squad's captain Quinn and her second in command Santana, stood, watching as well while Matt, Mike and Puck did so from one of the exits.

Will. . . . Will was amazed. They were incredible up there, completely wonderful, taking _Don't Stop Believin'_ by Journey to one intense conclusion, the choreography being simple and nice, with a few touches that spiked and accentuated their traits in different ways, like the difference in height between Finn and Rachel. He clapped at the end.

"Good guys. It's a nine. We need a ten." They cheered at him; an adult's perspective and opinion could boost in a long way a child's self esteem, and they were all pretty battered up in the club. "Rachel, you need to hit the ones and the fives. Finn, I think if we worked on it, you could hit a high 'B'."

"So does this mean you're staying?" Finn asked with a happy smile while Rach and Tina high-fived each other.

"It would kill me to see you win nationals without me." He confessed. "From the top."

* * *

MI's Note: so, this is the end of episode one and I hope you've enjoyed it so far. I do plan on going on but, I like watching the episodes and making them work. Are you enjoying it? Leave me a review please, x3

Also, this chapter had been done a while back, before Xmas but, I'm too much of a perfectionist, and since the numeration has changed, I had to change the chapters to reflect this and got stuck going over them to ensure they were good

Hence this note: sorry; I didn't even get the chance to check them over as I wanted D:


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